UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


/ 


THE    LIFE    OF 
EDWARD    FITZGERALD 


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THE   LIFE   OF 


EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


BY 

THOMAS  WRIGHT 

AUTHOR   OF    '  THE   LIFE   OF    WILLIAM   COWPER,     ETC. 


WITH   FIFTY-SIX    PLATES 


TWO    VOLUMES 
VOL.    L 


1   «   N  «        b 


NEW    YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1904 


•  -  •    •  «  • 


Edinburgh  :  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  His  Majesty 


i 


s^      \  THIS  WORK 

IS  DEDICATED,   BY   KIND   PERMISSION, 
TO 

THE   REV.   E.    KENWORTHY   BROWNE 

\  RECTOR  OF  NORTH  STONEHAM,  HANTS, 

r4  SON  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD'S 

GREATEST   FRIEND 


2U044/a 


PREFACE 

Whatever  may  be  the  merits  or  demerits  of  the  following 
biography,  I  should  like  to  draw  special  attention  to  the 
fact  that  it  contains  a  very  large  amount  of  new  information 
about  FitzGerald,  his  particular  friends  and  his  works. 
There  is,  indeed,  something  new  on  almost  every  page. 

By  many,  no  doubt,  my  discovery  of  the  origin  of 
'  Euphranor,'  and  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  written, 
will  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  revelations  of 
the  work. 

Then  the  numerous  extracts  from  the  large  number  of 
unpublished  letters  placed  in  my  hands  throw  all  sorts  of 
unexpected  lights  on  FitzGerald  and  his  circle.  These  letters 
are  as  follows : — 

(i)  About  fifty  written  by  FitzGerald  to  Mrs.  W.  Ken- 
worthy  Browne.  They  cover  a  period  extending  from  1840  to 
1875,  and  are  important  because  they  contain  many  references 
to  the  relations  between  FitzGerald  and  his  wife. 

(2)  About  fifty  written  by  FitzGerald  to  foseph  Fletcher 
('  Posh '),  of  which  many  are  in  my  own  possession.  Of  the 
hundred  letters  above  referred  to  not  a  word  has  hitherto 
been  published. 

(3)  Several  letters  written  by  FitzGerald  to  Horace 
Basham. 

(4)  A  letter  {iZth  fune  1852)  in  the  British  Museum. 

vi 


viii  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

(5)  Some  unpublished  letters  written  to  Mr.  Herman 
Biddell. 

I  have  also  been  able  to  use  a  large  number  of  unpublished 
letters  written  to  FitzGerald  and  others  by  Thackeray^ 
Mrs.  FitzGerald,  W.  Kenworthy  Browne,  Spedding,  Captain 
Addington,  Rev.  George  Crabbe,  Miss  Crab  be,  and  other 
friends  of  FitzGerald. 

Of  intense  interest  is  the  unpublished  manuscript,  contain- 
ing, in  FitzGerald' s  handwriting,  word-pictures  of  his 
principal  friends — Alfred  Tennyson,  Thackeray ,  W.  Ken- 
worthy  Browne,  Edgeworth,  Morton,  Malkin,  and  Bernard 
Barton  among  them.     From  this  I  have  quoted  largely. 

I  have  also  set  down  some  thirty  hitherto  unrecorded 
anecdotes  of  FitzGerald,  and  a  number  of  notes  written  by 
him  in  books,  the  most  important  being  those  i?i  copies  of 
'  Godefridus,'  '  Euphranor,'  and  Baedeker's  '  Manual  of  Con- 
versation,' the  last  containing  a  reference  to  a  hitherto 
unrecorded  visit  of  FitzGerald s  to  Germany. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  great  central  circumstance 
of  FitzGerald' s  life,  his  friendship  for  W.  Kenworthy 
Browne,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  friendships  in  the 
history  of  literature,  has  hitherto  been  hardly  mentioned. 
Take  up  any  work  you  will  relating  to  FitzGerald,  and  there 
will  be  found  nothing  about  it  beyond  the  few  references  in 
the  published  letters.  I  have  laid  bare  the  whole  story.  The 
close  connection  between  FitzGerald  ajid  his  brother  fohn 
and  the  Bedford  evangelist,  the  Rev.  T.  R.  Matthews,  has 
also  hitherto  been  unsuspected.  That  story  I  have  also  com- 
pletely unfolded. 

Other  hitherto  unknown  facts  relating  to  FitzGerald  here 
recorded  are: — (i)  Scores  of  interesting  particulars  relating 


PREFACE  ix 

to  the  friendships  of  FitzGerald  with  Squire  fenny,  Major 
Moor,  Rev.  W.  Monkhouse,  Harry  Dyott  Boulton,  Captain 
Addington,  Miss  Maude,  Miss  Lynn,  *  Mademoiselle^  Horace 
Basham,  Joseph  Fletcher  {'Posh'),  and  Newson.  (2)  Many 
interesting  particulars  about  the  '  Meuin  and  Tuum '  {Fits- 
Gerald's  lugger),  '  The  Scandal'  {FitzGerald' s  yacht),  and 
'  The  Bethel'  at  Lowestoft.  (3)  The  incident  of  the  drive 
with  Dickens.  (4)  The  Bredfield  School  episode.  (5) 
FitsGerald's  courtship  of  Miss  Crabbe.  (6)  Facts  relating 
to  his  connection  with  Naseby,  and  his  favourite  Bedford- 
shire villages.  (7)  His  opinions  on  cremation  and  other 
subjects.  (8)  The  identification  of  '  The  Three  Tuns'  at 
Chesterton,  which  was  the  scene  of  '  Euphranor.'  (9)  The 
identification  of  W.  K,  Browne  as  Pendennis. 

Then,  too,  I  have  rescued  from  a  forgotten  annual,  *  The 
Keepsake,'  FitzGerald' s  two  poems  '  The  Old  Beau'  and  ^The 
Merchant's  Daughter.' 

In  short,  I  have  been  sticcessful  beyond  my  utmost  expecta- 
tions, and  for  the  simple  reason  that  nobody  before  had  taken 
the  trouble  to  make  exhaustive  investigations. 

As  it  is  now  twenty  years  since  the  death  of  Edward 
FitzGerald,  I  do  not  think  an  apology  need  be  made  for 
recording  any  of  the  facts  here  given.  His  foibles  and  faults, 
as  well  as  his  virtues,  are  faith  filly  put  before  the  reader, 
and  to  objectors  {and  no  biography  was  ever  written  without 
displeasing  somebody)  I  would  offer  a  remark  made  to  me  by 
one  of  FitzGerald' s  most  intimate  friends,  '  We  have  a  right,' 
said  he,  *  to  enjoy  the  memory  of  great  men.' 

Very  soon  after  commencing  the  study  of  Edward 
FitzGerald,  I  discovered  the  viry  great  resemblance  in 
character  between  him  and  his  brother  John,  and  that,  their 


X  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

lives  being  much  mixed  up,  some  account  of  John  FitzGerald 
would  be  necessary  to  a  complete  understanding  of  Edward. 
In  some  respects  the  brothers  were  even  ridiculously  alike. 
John  was  a  public  character,  and  well  known  in  every  village 
of  Suffolk  and  in  many  parts  of  Bedfordshire  and  North- 
amptonshire twenty  years  before  Edwards  name  was  heard 
of  and  his  eccentricities  were  common  talk  in  religious 
circles.  Then  he  has  been  dead  nearly  thirty  years.  I  do  not 
think  there  is — /  trust  there  is  not — anything  in  these  pages 
that  could  give  pain  to  any  living  person. 

Of  very  great  value,  too,  are  the  illustrations — fifty-six 
in  number.  Many  of  these  are  reproductions  from  rare  prints 
and  photographs,  and  hitherto  inaccessible  oil  paintings. 
Of  particular  interest,  for  example,  are  the  various  portraits 
of  W.  Kenworthy  Browne,  including  one  by  Thackeray  and 
one  by  Lawrence  ;  the  pictures  of  Boulge  Hall  with  the  volun- 
teers, and  Naseby  Woolleys  ;  the  silhouette  of  the  Rev.  T.  R. 
Matthews  ;  the  pictures  of''  The  Scandal'  and  the  '  Meum  and 
Tuum,'  and  the  portraits  of  Squire  fenny,  Major  Moor,  fohn 
FitzGerald,  and  Miss  Lynn.  Of  these  fifty-six  pictures  only 
nine  or  ten  have  previously  been  seen  by  the  public. 

The  origin  of  this  work  is  as  follows : — 

Edward  FitzGerald,  as  everybody  knows  who  has  studied 
the  published  letters,  was  associated  intimately  with  two,  and 
only  two,  English  districts,  namely  the  Suffolk  sea-board  and 
Bedfordshire — or,  to  be  7nore  accurate,  that  belt  of  country 
extending  from  Baldock  {in  Herts)  and  Luton  to  Naseby 
and  Kettering,  and  including  Bedfordshire,  the  northern 
tip  of  Bucks  and  Northants. 

Living  in   the   latter    district,   having    all  my   life   been 


PREFACE  xi 

con7iected  with  Bedford,  having  spent  as  7nuch  time  as 
FitzGerald  himself  rambling  among  his  Bedfordshire  and 
Northamptonshire  villages,  it  was  very  natural  that  I  should 
be  interested  in  him. 

Perhaps  fewer  facts  have  been  recorded  about  Edward 
FitzGerald  than  of  any  other  great  modern  English  writer. 
It  has  hitherto  been  understood  that  the  reason  for  this 
scarcity  of  biographical  matter  was  that  there  were  7io 
materials.  In  view  of  the  circumstance  that  FitzGerald 
was  born  so  recently  as  1809,  ^'^'^  ^^^^  ^0  recently  as  1883, 
/  came  to  the  conclusion  that  while  those  biographical  materials 
had  not  been  m,ade  public,  they  must  somewhere  exist,  and 
accordingly  I  set  about  the  collection  of  them,  though  without 
any  definite  idea  as  to  the  use  I  should  put  them  to. 

In  my  researches  I  had  the  advantage  of  assistance  from 
the  late  Mr.  George  Hurst  of  Bedford,  and  several  other 
gentlemen  who  had  information  to  impart  and  ariecdotes  to 
tell  respecting  FitzGerald,  FitzGerald' s  brother  fohn, 
Matthews  the  preacher,  and  other  personages. 

In  the  spring  of  1901,  when  visiting  a  friend,  I  happejied 
in  the  course  of  conversation  to  observe  that,  my  edition 
of  '  Cowper's  Letters '  being  ready  for  the  press,  I  had 
nothing  literary  in  hand.  A  few  minutes  later,  the  talk 
having  turned  to  Bedford  and  my  FitzGerald  collection,  my 
friend  said,  '  Why  not  write  "  The  Life  of  Edtvard  Fitz- 
Gerald^^ ?  You  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  vie  for 
the  suggestion.' 

I  at  once  resolved  to  attempt  the  task,  provided  only  that  I 
could  enlist  the  sympathies  of  three  persons,  namely  Mr. 
Aldis  Wright,  FitzGerald' s  literary  executor ;  Professor  E. 
B.  Cowell ;    and  the   Rev.   E.   Kenworthy  Broivne,  so7i   of 


xii  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

FitsGerald's  greatest  friend.      I  presently    wrote    to  Mr. 
Wright  afid  Professor   Cowell  regarding  my  project,   and 
both   replied  in  terms  of  extreme  kindness.      A   little  later 
I  called  on  Mr.  Wright  at  Cambridge.     He  showed  m.e  all 
his   FitzGerald  treasures,  including  the  famous  *  small  tin 
box^'^  and  its  contents,  allowed  me  to  take  what  notes  I  liked, 
permitted  vie  to  copy  some  letters  from  FitsGerald's  friends, 
and  one  from  Mrs.  FitzGerald,  and  gave  m.e  a  number  of 
useful  hints.     He  then  introduced  me  to  Professor   Cowell, 
who  furnished  me  with  much  valuable  information,  most  of 
which  I  have  been  able  to  use  in  these  pages.     Both  he  and 
Professor  Cowell  helped  me  subsequently  by  letter. 

In  response  to  the  invitation  of  the  Rev.  E.  Kenworthy 
Browne,  I  then  went  to  spend  a  few  days  at  North  Stoneham 
Rectory,  in  Hants.  Mr.  Browne  placed  in  my  hands  a  large 
number  of  unpublished  letters  written  by  FitzGerald,  several 
other  valuable  manuscripts  connected  with  the  subject,  and 
a  number  of  interesting  pictures  that  had  never  previously 
been  used.  The  manuscripts  which  I  had  not  time  to  copy 
he  courteotisly  allowed  me  to  bring  away. 

To  Mr.  Browne's  sister,  Mrs.  Staunton-  Wing  of  Fit z Head 
Court,  Taunton,  I  am  indebted  for  the  loan  of  the  copy  of 
'  Godefridus'  presented  to  her  father  by  FitzGerald  {see 
chapter  vi.) ;  and  to  his  brother.  Captain  Gerald  E.  Ken- 
worthy  Browne,  FitzGerald' s  godson,  for  the  portrait  of*  The 
Bloody  Warrior'  at  Alders  hot. 

Besides  the  visits  to  North  Stoneham  and  Cambridge,  I 

made  four  other  journeys  in  order  to  converse  with  persons 

who  had  known  FitzGerald,  going  three  times  into  Suffolk 

and  Norfolk  {March,  fuly,  and  October  1902),  attd  once  to 

^  See  Mr.  Wright's  preface  to  FitzGerald' s  Letters. 


PREFACE  xiii 

Naseby.      Fro^n  first  to  last  I  ftuist  have  interviewed  two 
hundred  persons^  but  to  the  following  I  atn  most  indebted : — 

Miss  Mary  Lynn  of  Aldeburgh,  playmate  of  FitzGerald's 
boyhood,  and  friend  of  his  declining  years.  She  gave  me 
various  information,  told  me  several  anecdotes,  and  allowed 
me  to  take  from  her  book  of  water-colour  paintings  two 
views  to  illustrate  this  work. 

Mrs.  White  of  Boulge  Hall.  To  Mrs.  White,  whose  guest  I 
was  for  two  days  in  August  1902,  Miss  Margaret  White  and 
Miss  Agnes  White,  I  am  indebted  not  only  for  hospitality 
at  Boulge  Hall,  but  in  many  other  ways;  a?td  I  have  to 
thank  Mr.  Eaton  White  for  a  number  of  the  photographs 
used  in  this  work. 

Mrs.  White,  Bredfield  House.  Mrs.  White  of  Bredfield 
House,  where  Fits  Gerald  was  born,  showed  me  much  kind- 
ness when  I  called  ofi  her,  and  assisted  me  with  reminiscences 
and  anecdotes. 

Mr.  Alfred  Smith  of  Rendlesham,  with  whom  I  spent  two 
days  at  Lowestoft,  had  stories  to  tell  me  of  a  friendship  with 
FitzGerald  that  had  lasted  forty  years. 

Mr.  Herman  Biddell,  who  showed  me  many  original 
letters  written  by  FitzGerald,  and  some  FitzGerald  relics. 

Joseph  Fletcher,  ^ Posh',  FitzGerald' s  'great  man,'  ideal 
sailor,  and  hero.  I  had  many  conversations  with  him  at 
Lowestoft. 

Miss  Sarah  Thornton,  the  blind  lady  to  whom  John 
FitzGerald  was  so  kind,  and  who  was  also  well  acquainted 
with  Edward  FitzGerald. 

I  should  also  like  to  tender  my  sincere  thanks  to  the 
following: — 


xiv         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Rev.   Basil  Airy.,    Vicar  of  St.  John's,   Torquay    {son  of  Fiiz- 

Ger aid's  friend). 
Mrs.  Agutter,  Goldington,  Beds. 
Mr.  Oliver  Aldis,  Beccles. 
Rev.  H.  B.  Allen,  Colmworth,  Beds. 
Mrs.  Thomas  Allen. 
Mr.  George  Barker,  Wickham  Market. 
Mrs.  Barlow,  Hasketon. 
Mrs.  Isaac  Berry,  Woodbridge. 
Miss  Anna  Biddell,  Ipswich. 
Mr.  Cable,  Aldeburgh. 

Mrs.  Callis,  Gra?nmar  School,  Bury  St.  Edtfiu?ids. 
Miss  Ellen   Churchyard,    Woodbridge  {daughter  of  Fitz  Gerald^ s 

frie?id). 
Mr.  J.  L.  Clemence,  J.P.,  14  Marine  Parade,  Lowestoft. 
Mr.  William  Colby,  ^  Dickymilk,'  who  knew  Fitz Gerald  for  fifty 

years.     He  lived  at  Lowestoft,  and  was  alive  in  1902. 
Major  Doughty,  Aldeburgh. 

Mr.  Elijah  Edwards,  62  Carlton  Road,  Lowestoft. 
Mrs.  Fitz  Gerald,  widow  of  Fitz  Gerald's  nephew  Maurice. 
Mr.  Fosdyke,  Woodbridge. 
Mr.  V.  Galloivay,  Bookseller,  Catnbridge. 
Mr.  Charles  Gafis,  Aldeburgh. 
Mr.Johfi  Green,  Aldeburgh. 
Mrs.  R.  M.  Grier  {Grace  Allen),  daughter  of  Archdeacon  Allen, 

Fitz  Gerald's  friend. 
Mr.  Edward  Haines,  Naseby. 
Mr.  Halford,  Naseby. 

Mr.  W.  M.  Harvey,  Goldington  Hall,  Beds. 
Mrs.  Hogben,   The  High  School  for  Girls,  Bury  St.   Edmimds, 

formerly  King  Edward  VI.' s  Grammar  School. 
Mr.  Isaac  Joyce,  59  Bower  Road,  Bedford. 
Rev.  John  Kerrich,  FitzGerald's  nephew. 
Miss  Sarah  Linnet,  Naseby. 
Mr.  John  Loder,  Woodbridge. 
Mr.  William  Marjoram,  Woodbridge. 


PREFACE  XV 

Mr.  Marjoram,  Loivestoft. 

Rev.  R.  A.  L.  Nimns,  Wherstead. 

Mr.  Henry  Ogle,  The  Library,  Ipswich. 

Rev.  J.  H.  Orpen,  Rector  of  Burton-in-Rhos,  Pembrokeshire. 

Mrs.  Pytches,  '•Little  Grange^  Woodbridge. 

Mr.  J.  A.  Reid,  Cutcliff  Grove,  Bedford. 

Mrs.  Jane  Ritigrose,  Naseby. 

Mrs.  Rogers,   Woodbridge. 

Mrs.  /ohfi  Rolls,  Bedford. 

Mr.  Gerald  Smith,  Great  Beatings. 

Miss  Spalding,  daughter  of  FitzGeraWs  friend,   Mr.   Frederick 

Spalding. 
Mr.  A.  Stebbings,  Lowestoft. 

Mr.  IV.  Tarns,  i8  Priory  Street,  Huntingdon  Road,  Cambridge. 
Rev.  R.  C.  Thiirspield,  Naseby  Vicarage. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vincent  Redstone,  Woodbridge. 
Mr.  K.  H.   Watts,  King  Edward  V/.'s  Grammar  School,  Bury 

St.  Edtnunds. 
Mr.   William  Woodward  Welton,  Farlingay  Hall,  Woodbridge. 
Mr.  Welton,  Photographer,  Woodbridge. 


While  the  ^Life '  is  in  the  main  founded  on  unpublished 
material,  I  have  not  neglected  to  make  full  use  of  all  the 
published  works  relating  to  the  subject,  and  the  more  impor- 
tant magazine  articles.  My  principal  indebtedness  is  to  the 
various  works,  relative  to  FitzGerald,  published  by  Messrs, 
Macmillan;  and,  thanks  to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Aldis  Wright 
and  the  generous  permission  of  Messrs,  Macmillan,  I  have 
been  able  to  make  a  number  of  extracts  of  considerable 
length.  Then  I  have  to  thank  Mrs.  R.  M.  Grier  for  the 
use  of  the  portrait  of  her  father.  Archdeacon  Allen,  which 
appeared  originally  in  Mr.  Crier's  work,  '  The  Life  of 
Archdeacon  Allen^     The  following  is  a  fairly  complete  list 


xvi         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

of  the  books  and  magazine  articles  that  have  beefi  laid  under 
contribution  : — 

Allen  {Archdeacon),  Life  of.     By  R.  M.  Grier  {Rivingtons). 

Arbuthnot  (i^  F.).     Persian  Portraits  {Quaritch). 

Barton  {Lucy).     Bible  Letters,  1831. 

Barton  {Bernard).     Household  Verses,  1845. 

Blackwood' s  Edinlmrgh  Magazine,  November  1889, 

Colvin  {Sidney).     Magazine  of  Art,  1885 — ^  East  Suffolk  Memories' 

Contemporary  Review,  March  1876.     Article  by  H.  Schutz  Wilson. 

Carlyle's  Works  {Ashburton  Edition). 

Dutt,  W.  A.     Highways  a?id  Byeways  in  East  Anglia. 

Eraser  s  Magazine,  Jti fie  1870. 

,,  ,,         May  1879 — ^  The  True   Omar  Khayyam.''     By 

/essie  E.  Cadeli. 
FitzGerald,  T/ie  Letters  and  Literary  Retnains  of.     ^vols.     Edited 
by  Mr.  Aldis  Wright.     {Macmillan.) 
„  Letters  of .     2  vols.     1894.     {Macmillan.) 

,,  Letters  to  Fanny  Kemble.     1895.     {Bentley.) 

„  More  Letters  of  Edward  FitzGerald.   1901.  {Macmillan^ 

„  Sea  Words  and  Phrases,    1869   and   1870.     .{Samuel 

Tymms,  Loivestoft.) 
„  Miscellanies.     {Macmillan.) 

Gentleman's  Magazine,  1830  to  1850. 

Glyde  {fohn).     The  Life  of  Edward  FitzGerald.     {Pearson.) 
Groome  {Francis  Hindes).     Two  Suffolk  Friends.     {Blackwood.) 
Heron- Allen's  edition  of  the  Rubaiyat.     {H.  S.  Nichols.) 
Houghton  {Life  of  Lord).     By  Sir  Wemyss  Reid. 
Liter,  The,  fuly  1900.     ''The  Suffolk  Homes  of  Edward  FitzGerald.^ 
James  {Henry).    ^Frances  Anne  Kemble'    Temple  Bar,  April  1893. 
Kemble  {Frances  A.) — 

Record  of  a  Girlhood  {i2>og-i2>  2,  a)-     ^vols.     1878. 
Records  of  Later  Life  {i2>2,A-'i-^A^)-     3  z^^/J.     1882. 
Further  Records  {i2>A^-i2)2>i).     2  vols.     1890. 
Lady's  Magazine,  The,  1822.     ^  Dratnatic  Lntelligence.^ 
Layard.     Life  of  Charles  Keene.     {S.  Low  and  Co.) 


PREFACE 


xvii 


^Letters  of  a  Man  of  Leisure.^     Temple  Bar,  January  1893. 

Literature,  28//^  September  1901. 

London  .Society,  May  1866.     '  The  London  Opera  Directors.^ 

Macmilian's  Magazine,  November  1887.     Article  by  H.  G.  Keene. 

Monckton  Milnes  {Lord  ILoughton).     Temple  Bar,  vol.  xcii. 

Moor  {Major).     Suffolk  Words. 

Pollock  {Sir  Frederick).     Personal Remitiiscences.     {Macmillan.) 

Prideaux  {Colotiel  W.  F.).     Notes  for  a  Bibliography  of  Edward 

FitzGerald.     {Frajik  Hollings.) 
Shorter,  Clement.     Article  on  '  The  Omar  Khayyam  Club '  in  Great 

Thoughts. 
Thackeray.    Biographical  Edition  of  the  Works  of  W.  M.  Thackeray, 

with  Ifitroductions  by  his  daughter,  Anne  Ritchie.     1 3  vols. 
Temple  Bar,  1889,  May.      '  The   Prototypes  of  Thackeray's   Char' 

acters.' 
>>         »>     1893,  yi7«?^flry.     '' Letters  of  a  Man  of  Leisure? 
„         „     i^()T„  April.     ^ Frances  Anne  Kemble.^ 
Tennyson  {Lord).     Life  of  Lord  Tennyson. 
Two  Suffolk  Friends  {with  corrections  made  in  margin  by  Mr.  J. 

Loder). 
Wright  {Mr.  Aldis).     See  FitzGerald. 
Zincke  {Rev.  F.  Barhani),  '  Wherstead.' 

Thomas  Weight. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  I 


BOOK  I :  BREDFIELD  AND  BURY  SCHOOL 

Sixteen  Years  (31st  March  1809-1825). 

CHAPTER    I 

THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED   HOUSE 
31st  March  1809 — 1825 

1.  The  White  House  and  the  Little  Owl, 

2.  FitzGeralcl's  Parents  and  the  Kembles, 

3.  The  Red  House,   . 

4.  Naseby  Woolleys, 

5.  Major  Moor, 

6.  Woodbridge, 

7.  In  France.    The  Rodez  Murder, 

8.  Aldeburgh.     Mary  Lynn, 

9.  The  Poet  Crabbe,  . 

10.  The  Haymarket  Theatre, 

11.  At  Bury,  182 1.    Peter's  Escapade 

12.  The  Naseby  Obelisk, 

13.  Bernard  Barton,  . 

14.  The  Maple's  Head, 


29 
30 
37 
41 
44 
48 

50 
52 
53 
56 
59 
65 
65 
67 


BOOK  II :  WHERSTEAD 

Ten  Years  (1825-1835). 
CHAPTER    II 

WHERSTEAD   LODGE 
1825 — November  1830. 

15.  Wherstead  and  Ipswich,  .  .  ,  . 

16.  At  Cambridge,  1826-1830,  .... 

17.  The 'Three  Tuns' at  Chesterton, 

18.  The  Two  Antipholuses,    ..... 

19.  Mrs.  Kerrich,  Dr.  Crowfoot,  Le  Bon  Pasteur,  Torrijos, 

CHAPTER    III 

NASEBY  AND  TENTIY 
November  1830 — May  1834. 

20.  At  Naseby.     The  Meadows  in  Spring,  . 

21.  Lines  on  Will  Thackeray,  .... 

22.  Perry  Nursey  and  Newton  Shawe, 


71 

75 
82 

85 
86 


92 

95 
96 


XX 


LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


23- 

24. 

25- 

26. 
27. 
28. 
29. 

30- 

31- 
32. 
33. 
34. 


Matthews  and  his  Trumpet, 

Tenby  and  the  Aliens,  1832, 

William  Kenworthy  Browne, 

'  Paradise-making,' 

At  Lowestoft,  1 83 1, 

Death  of  the  poet  Crabbe,  3rd  February 

Canst  thou,  my  Clora, 

W.  B.  Donne.    Castle  Irwell, 

Word  Portraits,     . 

Vegetarianism,  October  1833, 

The  Museum  Book,  15th  October  1833, 

Death  of  Anne  Allen, 


CHAPTER  IV 

HARP  AND   LUTE 


35. 
36. 

37- 
38. 
39- 


1832, 


May  1834— July  1835. 


Genius  for  concentrating, 
Cauldwell  House,  Bedford. 
'The  Old  Beau,' 1834,      . 
In  the  Lake  Country, 
Farewell  to  Wherstead,    . 


Frank  Edgeworth, 


PAGE 
96 

104 

108 
III 
III 

113 

114 

116 
117 


119 
120 
124 
126 
129 


BOOK  III:  BOULGE 

Eighteen  Years  (July  1835-1853), 

CHAPTER  V 

BOULGE   HALL 
July;i835— August  1838 

40.  Boulge  Hall,  .... 

41.  George  Crabbe  the  Second, 

42.  Newton  and  Cowper, 

43.  The  Cottage  at  Boulge,  April  1837, 

44.  Bernard  Barton  and  his  daughter  Lucy, 

CHAPTER  VI 

CHIEFLY  BEDFORD 


45 


46, 
47 


August  1838 — June  1841. 

'  The  Falcon '  at  Bletsoe, 


'  Flowing  Rivers  full  of  Fishes. 

August  1838,     . 
Godefridus  and  Keysoe,    ..... 
At  Lowestoft  with  Browne,  .... 

48.  Samuel  Lawrence  and  Geldestone, 

49.  In  Love  with  Miss  Caroline  Crabbe.     '  Bredfield  Hall,'  1839, 

50.  In  Ireland  with  W.  K.  Browne,  October  1839,   . 

51.  At  Geldestone.     J.  H.  Newman,  April  1840, 

52.  '  Chronomoros,'     ...... 


133 
138 

139 

142 

147 


152 

154 
161 

162 
163 
165 
166 
167 


CONTENTS 


XXI 


CHAPTER  VII 

NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS 
July  1841 — July  1844. 

PAGE 

53.  In  Ireland  again,  July  1841.    The  Edgeworths,  .  .     169 

54.  Strada  del  Obelisco.     A  Drive  with  Dickens,    .  .  .     170 

55.  Frederick  Tennyson  ;    Pierce  Morton  ;   and   Carlyle's  Hero- 

Worships  .  .  .  .  .  .  .173 

56.  In  London,  Spring  1842,  ......     174 

57.  At  Bedford,  Yardley  Hastings,  and  Castle  Ashby,  August  1842,     175 

58.  Carlyle  in  a  '  Branglemess.'     Naseby  Excavations,       .  .     176 

59.  In  Ireland  again,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .182 


CHAPTER   VIII 

REV.    T.    R.    MATTHEWS 
April  1844 — September  1845. 

60.  The  Bromham  Road  Chapel,       .... 

61.  Browne's  Marriage,  30th  July  1844, 

62.  Goldington  Hall.     '  The  Bloody  Warrior,' 

63.  Andalusia's  Marriage,  August  1844, 

64.  Bernard  Barton's  eighth  volume.     '  Le  petit  Churchyard,' 

65.  Death  of  Matthews,  4th  September  1845, 


187 
188 

193 
202 

205 

206 


CHAPTER   IX 

E.    B.  COWELL 
October  1845 — 1853. 

66.  A  Peep  at  the  Hall  Farm,  1846,  . 

67.  The  Wits  of  Woodbridge, 

68.  E.  B.  Cowell,         ..... 

69.  Death  of  Edgeworth,  12th  October  1846, 

70.  The  '  Squire '  Papers.     Kemble  at  Cassiobury,  . 

71.  Cowell's  Marriage,  .... 

72.  FitzGerald  as  a  Teacher  of  the  Bible,     . 

73.  Death  of  Major  Moor  and  Bernard  Barton, 

74.  The  Cottage  at  Bramford.    Spedding's  Forehead, 

75.  Cowell  goes  to  Oxford,     . 

76.  EiipJiranor^ 

77.  Alfred  Smith,  Boulge  Reader, 

78.  Bankruptcy  of  Fitz( lerald's  father, 

79.  Death  of  Squire  Jenny,  185 1, 

80.  Fanny  Kemble  at  Woodbridge.    Miss  Maude, . 

81.  A  Visit  to  Archdeacon  Allen,  February  1852,     . 

82.  Death  of  FitzGerald's  father,  i8th  March  1852, 

83.  Polo/nus,  1852,      ..... 

84.  At  Goldington  Hall.     On  Song-Making, 

85.  Six  Plays  of  Calderon  published,  1853,  . 


214 
215 
217 
219 
220 
222 
222 
224 
230 
236 

237 
240 
241 

243 
244 
246 

247 
248 
250 
252 


xxii        LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


BOOK  IV:   FARLINGAY 

Seven  Years  (December  1853 — November  i860). 

CHAPTER  X 

PERSIAN  STUDIES 

1853-1855- 

86.  Farlingay,  ....... 

87.  Persian  Studies,.  ...... 

88.  Sa/a/;mn  and  A dsal  published,  1856,     .  .  .  . 

89.  With  the  Cowells  at  Oxford.    Death  of  FitzGerald's  mother, 

January  30,  1855,         . 

90.  Carlyle  at  Farlingay,  8th  to  i8th  August  1855, 


PAGE 
259 
260 
266 

269 
271 


CHAPTER  XI 


OMAR    KHAYYAM 


91.  Omar  Khayyam, 

92.  The  two  Theories, 

93.  Omar's  Poem, 

94.  Omar's  Personality, 

95.  '  Heart's  Desire,' 

96.  The  Inconsistencies  of  Omar, 

97.  Omar's  attitude  towards  God, 

98.  Goldington  Hall.     FitzGerald  in  Germany,  June  1856, 

99.  Cowell  goes  to  India,  Aug.  1856.    Reminiscences  of  Bramford, 

CHAPTER    XII 

SIX   MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE 

(4th  November  1856 — May  1857). 

100.  A  Week  at  Donne's.     George  Borrow, 

loi.  FitzGerald's  Marriage,  4th  November  1856,     . 

102.  The  Birds'  'Pilgrim's  Progress,'  .... 

103.  The  Paddock  at  Goldington  Hall.     Baldock  '  Black  Horse.' 

The  Separation,  ...... 

104.  The  '  Far  niente' life  again,       .  .  .  .  . 


276 
277 
281 
281 
283 
285 
285 
288 
291 


296 
297 
302 

305 
312 


CHAPTER    XIII 

GOLDINGTON 
(May  1857— March  1859). 

105.  Death  of  George  Crabbe  the  Second    . 

106.  Goldington  Bury,  23rd  September  1858, 

107.  Death  of  W.  Kenworthy  Browne,  30th  March  1859, 


315 
319 
320 


LIST  OF  PLATES  IN  VOLUME  I 

PLATE 

I.  EDWARD  FITZGERALD,        .  ,  .  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

II.    BREDFIELD  HOUSE  AND  NASEBY  WOOLLEYS,      .  '         '2^ 

III.  Fitzgerald's  mother,  .  .  .  -Si 

IV.  the  RED  house,        .  .  .  .  -35 

V.    SQUIRE   JENNY   OF    HASKETON,  .  .  -39 

VI.    MAJOR   MOOR,    WITH   STICK    FROM    *  ROYAL   GEORGE,'   .         45 

VII.    KING     EDWARD    THE     SIXTH's      SCHOOL,      BURY     ST. 

EDMUNDS,      .  .  .  .  .  -57 

VIII,    THE   OBELISK,   NASEBY,  .  .  .  -63 

IX.    WHERSTEAD    LODGE   AND   THE    FERRY,    CHESTERTON,  73 

X.    FITZGERALD'S   LODGINGS,    CAMBRIDGE,  .  '77 

XI.    CAMBRIDGE    HOUSE,   CHESTERTON,    AND    GELDESTONE 

HALL,  ......         83 

XII.    REV.   T.    R.    MATTHEWS   OF   BEDFORD,  .  .         97 

XIII.  THE  TRUMPET  BLOWN  BY  THE  REV.  T.  R.  MATTHEWS,  lOI 
XIV.    W.    KENWORTHY    BROWNE,        .  .  .  .105 

XV.    CAULDWELL    HOUSE,    BEDFORD,  .  .  .12  1 

XVI.    BOULGE   HALL    AND    BOULGE   CHURCH,  .  .       135 

xxiii 


xxiv        LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


PLATE 

XVII.  BOULGE   COTTAGE,         .... 

XVIII.  'THE   FALCON,'    BLETSOE, 

XIX.  '  THE   ROSE   AND   CROWN,'   YARDLEY    HASTINGS, 

XX.  JOHN    ALLEN    (1844), 

XXI.  TURNPIKE  COTTAGE   AND   GOLDINGTON   HALL, 

XXII.  GOLDINGTON    VICARAGE, 

XXIII.  THE   REV.    W.    MONKHOUSE   AND   THE    REV.    \V.    AIRY, 

XXIV.  W.  KENWORTHY    BROWNE, 
XXV.  THOMAS    CHURCHYARD, 

XXVI.  MATTHEWS'S    CHAPEL,    BEDFORD, 

XXVII.  BERNARD   BARTON,       .... 

XXVIII.  THE   COTTAGE   AT   BRAMFORD, 

XXIX.  FARLINGAY    HALL,         .... 

XXX.    COPY    OF     PHOTOGRAPH    PRESENTED    BY    CARLYLE   TO 
ALFRED   SMITH        .... 

XXXI.    TOMB   OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM,       . 

XXXII.    'the    bloody   WARRIOR,' 

XXXIII.    PROFESSOR   COWELL,    .... 

XXXIV.    GOLDINGTON    HALL    FROM    '  THE    PADDOCK,'    . 

XXXV,    GOLDINGTON    BURY,    .... 

XXXVI.    W.  KENWORTHY   BROWNE, 

XXXVII.    GOLDINGTON   CHURCH, 


BOOK    I 

Bredfield  and  Bury  School 
Sixteen  Years  (31  st  March  1809-1825) 


VOL.  I. 


A  3-'"^   a. 


BREDFIELD    HOUSE   (FITZGERALD'S   BIRTHPLACE) 

From  a  plioto^raph  by  R,  Eaton  White ^  Es<j. 


nasehn'  woollevs 

THE    NOHTHAMPTONSIllKE    HOME   OK    THE    KITZGERAI.DS 


Frotn  an  oil painliyii^. 


I'l.ATE  II. 


THE   LIFE  OF 
EDWARD    FITZGERALD 

CHAPTER    I 

THE    WHITE    HOUSE    AND   THE    RED    HOUSE 
31  MARCH  1809 — 1825 

Edward  FitzGerald,  the  famous  letter-writer  and 
adapter  of  Omar  Khayyam,  was  born,  'hither  hurried,' 
'without  asking,'  and  'with  a  silver  spoon  in  ^  ^j^^  White 
his  mouth,'  at  the  White  House,  Bredfield  House  and  the 
(now  called  Bredfield  House  ^),  a  quaint  yet 
stately  brick-built,  plaster-coated  Jacobean  mansion,  about 
a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  north  of  Woodbridge,  on 
the  31st  of  March  1809.  He  was  the  third  son  of  John 
and  Mary  Frances  Purcell,  who  were  first  cousins  and  of 
Irish  descent ;  and  in  this  corner  of  Suffolk — the  country 
of  level  wheatfields,  noble  estuaries,  and  dwindled  towns — 
FitzGerald  spent  the  greater  portion  of  his  life — a  life  of 
brilliant  lights  and  dense  shadows.  Mr.  Purcell's  father, 
John  Purcell,  M.D.,  who  prided  himself  on  his  descent 
from  Cromwell,  was  of  Richmond  Hill,  Dublin  ;  Mrs.  Pur- 
cell's father,  John  FitzGerald  (sixteenth  in  lineal  descent 
from  Maurice,  fourth  Earl  of  Kildare),  married  his  first 
cousin,  Mary,  daughter  of  Keane  FitzGerald.  John  Fitz- 
Gerald, who  is  described  as  of  Little  Island,  Waterford, 

'  The  •  Bredfield  Hall '  of  FitzGerald's  poem. 

29 


30  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

was  a  man  of  great  wealth,  being  the  owner  of  vast 
estates  in  Ireland,  Northants,  Suffolk,  and  elsewhere. 
The  repeated  intermarrying  in  the  family  may  in  some 
measure  account  for  what  Edward  called  the  *  FitzGerald 
madness.'  Of  his  maternal  grandfather — a  handsome, 
powdered  gentleman — Edward  has  preserved  the  follow- 
ing anecdote :  '  My  grandfather  had  several  parrots  ot 
different  sorts  and  talents.  One  of  them  (Billy,  I  think) 
could  only  huff  up  his  feathers  in  what  my  grandfather 
called  an  owl  fashion  ;  so  when  company  were  praising 
the  more  gifted  parrots,  he  would  say — "You  will  hurt 
poor  Billy's  feelings.  Come  !  do  your  little  owl,  my 
dear  !  "'^  This  story,  which  Mrs.  Purcell  used  to  tell  her 
children,  much  impressed  Edward,  who  often  applied  it  ; 
and  sixty  or  more  years  after,  when  his  selections  from 
Crabbe  were  printing,  we  find  him  speaking  of  having 
'  done  his  little  owl.' 

The  other  children  of  John  and  Mary  Frances  Purcell 
were  Mary  Frances  [1802-1820],  John  [1803-1879],  Anda- 
lusia (Mrs.  De  Soy  res)  [?  — 1879],  Mary  Eleanor  (Mrs. 
Kerrich)  [1805-1863],  Jane  (Mrs.  Wilkinson)  [1806—?], 
Pe/er  [1807-1875],  Isabella  (Mrs.  Vignati)  [i8io-i864].2 

Mr.  John  Purcell,  who  upon  the  death  of  his  wife's 
father^  in  1818  took  the  FitzGerald  name  and  arms,  and 
2  F'tzG  raid's  ^^^^"^  ^^  shall  henceforth  call  Mr.  John  Fitz- 
Parents  and  the  Gerald,  was  a  big-built,  ruddy-faced,  kindly 
man,  but  of  no  account  (or  not  much)  beside 
his  wife.  He  was  merely  Mrs.  FitzGerald's  husband.  He 
hunted,  shot,  served  as  High  Sheriff  of  the  county,  and 
sat  in  Parliament  as  member  for  Seaford,  near  Brighton, 
where  he  had  an  estate  ;  living,  in  short,  the  life  of  an 

^  Letters  to  Fanny  Kemble,  p.  142  (Bentley). 

2  Parish  Registers  of  Bredfield. 

3  He  is  buried  at  old  St.  Pancras,  London. 


FITZGERALD'S   MOTHER 


Fi-oniii  pitiiilhi.1  I'y  Sir  I  lioiiins  I.aiireiicf. 


IM.A  I  !•;  111. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE  33 

ordinary  country  gentleman.  For  doing  nothing  he  was 
peculiarly  adapted  (he  was  born  to  it),  and  had  he  only 
recognised  this  fact,  instead  of  putting  his  mediocre  talents 
to  use — instead,  for  example,  of  indulging  in  colliery 
developments  on  his  estate  at  Pendleton,  near  Manchester, 
he  might  have  continued  life  as  he  began  it,  a  rich, 
successful,  and  happy  man.  Of  the  gardens,  the  well- 
timbered  lawn,  the  lofty,  extensive,  and  umbrageous 
coverts  (now  vanished),  '  haunt  of  hare  and  pheasant,'  the 
pleasaunces  '  dashed  by  the  scarlet-coated  hunter,  horse, 
and  dappled  hound,'  and  the  'hospitable  fires 'of  Bred- 
field  Hall,  there  are  deathless  memories  in  FitzGerald's 
graphic  poem  of  that  title.  From  the  road  in  front  of  the 
lawn,  glimpses  could  be  caught  of  men-of-war  lying  in 
Hollesley  Bay. 

The  boy  derived  his  force  of  character  not  from  '  papa,' 
but  from  '  mamma,' ^  who  was  exceptionally  handsome 
(her  beauty  dazed  kings),  gifted,  well  educated  (she  knew 
four  languages),  a  lover  of  poetry,  especially  of  Crabbe, 
imperial,  as  became  a  daughter  of  the  FitzGeralds  of 
Kildare,  and  eccentric  ;  but,  better  than  any  description, 
are  the  two  speaking  portraits  of  her  by  Sir  Thomas 
Lawrence.  One  of  them  was  considered  by  her  son  to 
bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 
In  the  ofher,  which  we  reproduce,  her  pride  of  race  is  as 
much  in  evidence  as  her  beauty,  which  consisted  chiefly 
in  her  perfect  features  and  dark,  luxuriant  hair.  From  her 
ears  and  at  her  breast  hang  pendants — apparently  pearls — 
and  we  are  told  that  she  used  to  wear  a  bracelet  of  her 
husband's  hair,  with  a  massive  clasp  inscribed  with  the 
words  *Stesso  sangue,  stessa  sorte.'^  Her  children  felt 
towards  her  awe  rather  than  love,  and  when  she  came  to 

^  FitzGerald  invariably  used  these  words  in  speaking  of  his  parents. 
-  Fanny  Ktmble :  Records  of  a  Girlhood,  i.  136. 


34  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

the  nursery  'they  were  not  much  comforted  by  her  visit.' 
Her  Junonian  beauty  brightened,  her  violent  temper  de- 
vastated, the  home  ;  but  she  did  not  neglect  the  religious 
training  of  her  children,  and  the  prayer  at  night,  which 
each,  in  little  white  surplice,  repeated  at  her  knee,  sank 
into  their  memories ;  which  was  well,  for  of  spiritual 
advantages  out  of  the  house  they  had  few,  the  pastor  of 
Bredfield  being  of  the  old  sort,  with  vermilion  nose, 
caused  by  good  cheer,  who  used  to  lay  his  hat  and  whip 
on  the  Communion  table,  gabble  over  the  prayers,  work 
his  way  perfunctorily  through  a  sermon  of  some  one 
else's  composition,  and  run  down  the  pulpit  stairs,  with  a 
view  to  being  invited  to  dinner  at  the  Hall. 

The  White  House  is  little  changed  from  the  days  when 
FitzGerald  and  his  brothers  and  sisters  lived  in  it.  One 
apartment,  indeed,  'the  stone  room,'  is  the  same  even  to 
the  wall-paper,  with  its  pattern  of  great  squares  and 
flowers.  Another,  'the  magistrates'  room,' where  Edward 
'used  to  be  whipped,'  is  also  pointed  out;  and  one  may 
mount  to  the  nursery  in  one  of  the  gables,  the  doorway 
of  which  still  exhibits  on  each  side  the  grooves  made  to 
receive  the  imprisoning-board,  or  look  out  from  its  small 
window  on  to  the  lawn,  and  listen  to  the  bells  of  St.  Mary's, 
Woodbridge,  as  Edward  and  his  brothers  and  sisters  so 
often  did.  Their  mother,  who  was  frequently  from  home 
— for  the  FitzGeralds  had  a  handsome  town  residence  in 
Portland  Place,  where  they  usually  passed  the  season — 
sometimes  saw  her  children  only  once  a  fortnight,  and  in 
after  years  Edward  would  point  to  the  shrubs  in  front  of 
the  house,  behind  which  he  used  to  hide  in  order  to  see 
her  coach,  'of  a  good  full  yellow  colour,' and  four  black 
horses  come  magnificently  up  the  drive.  Though  he 
stood  in  awe  of  his  mother,  however,  he  was  both  proud 
and  fond  of  her.     In  Eiiphranoi%  surely,  are  preserved 


j-v   .J  miM.^^.  i.l 


O 


■5, 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     37 

some  reminiscences  of  his  childhood.  In  idea  we  see  him 
and  his  brothers  playing  in  the  garden  '  wet  or  dry,  re- 
gardless of  aunt's  screaming  from  the  window '  for  them 
to  come  in  when  a  cloud  appeared  threatening  ;  we  are 
'  shut  up  with  them  for  two  hours'  morning  service  in  the 
pew  without  being  allowed  to  go  to  sleep  there,'  with 
nothing  provided  for  our  amusement  except  that  finely 
coloured  nose  of  the  vicar's,  and  teased  about  text  and 
sermon  afterwards  ;  we  '  climb  up  the  poplar  in  our  garden 
by  way  of  beanstalk,'  and  get  whipped  for  chasing  the 
sheep  about  in  the  neighbouring  field.  The  wealth  of 
the  FitzGeralds — derived  chiefly  from  Mrs.  FitzGerald's 
father — enabled  them  to  make  at  dinners  and  on  other 
occasions  a  display  which  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  less 
favoured  ;  and  we  are  told  particularly  of  the  magnificence 
of  the  gold  dessert  and  table  ornaments,  and  their  suc- 
cessors in  favour,  a  set  of  ground  glass  and  burnished 
silver,  '  so  exquisite  that  the  splendid  gold  service  was 
pronounced  infinitely  less  tasteful  and  beautiful.' 

At  the  Red  House  in  the  neighbouring  village  of 
Hasketon  lived  Squire  Jenny,  a  friend  of  Edward's  father. 
The  name  Red  House  was  probably  bestowed  3.  The  Red 
upon  Squire  Jenny's  mansion  to  distinguish  House, 
it  from  the  White  or  Bredfield  House,  when  the  latter 
was  first  coated  with  plaster.  Squire  Jenny  was  of  a 
short  stature,  with  long,  yellowish  face,  shaggy  eye- 
brows, and  enormous  ears — the  last  quite  a  monstrosity. 
An  ardent,  jovial  sportsman  of  the  kind  Randolph 
Caldecott  delighted  to  draw,  carrying,  when  he  visited 
London,  a  delightful  breath  of  the  country  into  street 
and  house,  he  shared  with  FitzGerald's  father  the  cost 
of  keeping  a  pack  of  harriers,  and  adorned  his  walls 
with  pictures  of  racehorses,  puppies,  and  jockeys.  One 
picture  (painted  by  a  Miss  Page,  afterwards  Mrs.  Phillips), 


38  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

is  here  reproduced.  It  represents  the  squire  in  blue  coat, 
whip  in  hand,  'Going  to  see  sick  Betty,'  though  whether 
mare,  puppy,  or  woman  we  are  left  to  imagine.  An 
extremist  in  the  matter  of  sanitation,  he  wisely  took  care 
that  his  windows  should,  whenever  possible,  be  open— a 
great  wonder  in  those  days.  If  the  snow  came  in  he 
simply  had  it  shovelled  out,  and  would  have  no  carpets — 
in  fact  '  nothing  comfortable  in  his  house ' :  he  didn't 
want  to  be  stifled,  he  said.  On  a.  Sunday  he  always 
attended  church  in  the  morning,  and  spent  the  rest  of 
the  day  reading  BeWs  Life,  which,  with  its  big  eye, 
might  be  seen  lying  on  a  great  oak  table  cut  from  one  of 
his  own  trees.  In  the  attics,  it  was  understood,  were 
great  hampers  which  nobody  ever  opened,  filled  with  old 
china  of  fabulous  value.  With  Squire  Jenny  lived  his 
sister  Anne — keen  housewife,  oddity,  miser.  He  liked 
the  smell  of  the  stables,  she  the  colour  of  current  coin, 
which,  however,  on  reaching  her  immediately  ceased  to 
be  current — there  it  remained. 

The  families  of  FitzGerald  and  Jenny  were  extremely 
intimate,  and  frequently  exchanged  visits,  dining  at  '  The 
White  House'  like  emperors,  seated  on  gilded  chairs 
upholstered  with  satin,  among  ancestral  portraits  and 
sconces  reflecting  multitudes  of  candles,  their  feet  on 
luxurious  carpets.  The  table  groaned  with  plate,  rich 
foods,  choice  wines,  every  dainty  to  tempt  the  appetite. 
These  banquets  gave  the  bluff,  outspoken  squire  the 
occasion  for  an  oft-repeated  coarse  jest.  At  '  The  Red 
House'  they  fared  frugally  (Miss  Jenny,  careful  soul, 
seeing  to  that),  and  the  homeliness  of  the  meal  harmon- 
ised with  the  cold,  hard,  shiny,  uncomfortable  chairs  and 
the  naked  floors.  There  was  no  stint,  however,  of  fresh 
air.  The  breezy,  good-natured,  horsy  squire  and  little 
Edward  soon  became  the  best  of  friends,  and  many  were 


^. 


^^st- 


c 


W       r- 


z    g 


^- 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE    41 

the  happy  hours  spent  at  Hasketon.  But  the  getting 
there!  The  path  pierced  a  dense  and  dismal  wood. 
FitzGerald  told  Mrs.  Barlow  of  Hasketon  that  he  never 
passed  through  this  wood  without  trembling,  even  when 
he  held  his  mother's  hand.  He  fancied  sheeted  ghosts. 
Every  tree  and  hedge-clump  seemed  a  shelter  for  fiery 
snake,  dragon  with  tusks,  hobgoblin  with  puffy  and 
quilt-like  body,  or  other  clammy  terrors.  In  after  years, 
however,  that  wood  was  his  perpetual  delight. 

Among  the  homes  of  the  FitzGeralds — and  they  seem 
to  have  had  as  many  as  six^  at  a  time — one  of  them, 
Naseby  Woolleys,  has  been  entirely  over-  4.  Naseby 
looked  by  previous  writers.  Yet  it  was  here  WooUeys. 
that  FitzGerald  spent  a  great  part  of  his  early  life,  and 
next  to  Bredfield,  this  house  had  most  attraction  for  the 
FitzGerald  family. 

On  the  map  Naseby  village  looks  just  like  a  big  butter- 
fly with  dwindled  thorax,  exaggerated  head,  and  in- 
ordinately long  feelers,  the  body  being  inclined  to  the 
north-east,  whilst  the  configuration  of  the  neighbouring 
fields  makes  well-defined  wings.  The  church  is  the  left 
eye,  the  vicarage  is  in  the  left  wing  ;  on  the  right  feeler 
is  an  'ass  of  an  obelisk'  (of  the  erection  of  which  we  shall 
presently  speak,  and  which  will  loom  rather  large  in  these 
pages) ;  the  left  feeler  stretches  over  Mill  Hill  and  the 
battlefield.  Naseby  Woolleys  is  out  of  the  butterfly 
altogether,  far  away  on  the  left.  Naseby,  'the  navel  of 
England,'  is  630  feet  above  the  sea  level,  and  gives  origin 
to  two  of  our  rivers — the  Avon,  flowing  west,  and  the  Nen, 
east.  In  the  time  of  the  Rev.  John  Mastin,  vicar,  who  in 
1792  wrote  on  its  history  and  antiquities,  and  during 
Edward    FitzGerald's    boyhood,    the    houses    were    built 

^  Naseby  Woolleys,  Little  Island,  Castle  Irwell,  and  the  house  at  Seaford 
were  their  own  properly. 


42  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

'mostly   of   kealy   earth,'   and    Mastin,    a   facetious   and 
pleasing  chronicler,   could  not  imagine  what  more  any 
man  could  wish   for  who  lived   in   one  of  these  human 
swallow's  nests.     Aged  people  were  plentiful.     '  They  are 
proverbial,   being   called   "  Naseby  children,"  frequently 
becoming  a  second  time  so  by  age.'     A  tale  is  told  of  one 
old  fellow  who  cut  at  seventy  '  an  entire  new  and  regular 
set  of  teeth,  which  grew  to  a  proper  size,  and  continued  firm 
and  good  to  the  time  of  his  death,'  at  the  age  of  ninety-five — 
'  so  good  that  he  would  quarrel  with  his  family  for  crusts.' 
The  garrulous  vicar  also  observes  that,  brought  up  on 
high  ground  amid  storms  and  winds,  the  folk  '  vociferate 
loudly '  in  order  to  be  heard  above  the  forces  of  nature  ; 
and   he   speaks   of  three  marvellous  wells,   one  of  blue 
water,   '  Warren's ' ;  one  of  yellow  water,  the  chalybeate 
Scrough    Hill   Spring ;    and   one   of   icy   coldness,    *  St. 
Dennis's,'  now  filled  up.     The  church,  which  is  in  the 
middle  of  the  village,  displayed  in  FitzGerald's  childhood 
above  its  tower  a  great  copper   ball.     '  The    FitzGerald 
Arms,'  opposite  the  church,  still  reminds  of  the  family, 
though  in  name  only,  for  the  contemporary  edifice  has 
disappeared  ;   and  the  stump  of  the  old   Market  Cross,^ 
and  the  ancient  Tithe  Barn,  refer  us  to  the  days  of  monk 
and  missal  and  payment  in  kind.     Another  but  less  enter- 
taining account  of  the  parish  was  furnished  in   1830  by 
Henry  Lockinge,   one  of  its  curates,  who  dedicated  his 
book  to  FitzGerald's  father  and  mother,   'the  Lord  and 
Lady  of  the  Manor.' 

For  some  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  FitzGerald  lived  at  Naseby 
Woolleys,  and  subsequently,  when  it  was  untenanted, 
would  go  there  for  the  summer.  The  house,  which  had 
a  verandah  in  front,  and  was  surrounded  by  flower  gardens, 
is  now  much  altered.     To  the  east  extends  Broad  Moor, 

'  Now  at  the  end  of  the  village.     Another  cross  occupies  its  old  site. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     43 

the  scene  of  the  famous  battle  of  Naseby,  and  on  the  west 
runs  the  Avon,  coaxed  at  this  spot  to  broaden  out  into  a 
picturesque  artificial  lake,  the  haunt  of  swan,  wild  duck, 
and  water-hen.     To  Mr.  FitzGerald's  descent,  or  supposed 
descent,    from    Cromwell   we   have   referred,    and   in    the 
house,  which  contained   many  objects  of  antiquarian  in- 
terest,   might   have   been    seen    a   wooden   figure   of  his 
reputed  ancestor  in  steel  armour,  with  his  actual  sword. 
Cromwell's    gold   watch,    and    coins,    bullets,    and    other 
relics  picked  up  on  the  battlefield  were  displayed  in  glass 
cases  ;  and  there  was  a  musical  clock — the  wonder  of  the 
neighbourhood — which    played    eight    tunes    and    set    a 
number  of  quaint  little  figures  in  motion.     The  Cromwell 
in  armour  was  too  lifelike  to  be  pleasant,  especially  at' 
dusk.     '  It  used  to  frighten  folk  so  ;  it's  been  dreadful  to 
hear  the  FitzGerald  children  scream  if  they  happened  to 
be  left  alone  with  it '  ;  and  we  may  be  sure  that  Edward, 
who  trembled  so  in  Hasketon  Wood,  screamed  as  loudly 
as  the  others.    Oliver's  sword,  however,  which  maintained 
its   virtue,    once   came   in    handy,   for   John   Linnet,   the 
gardener,   a   hardy,   vigorous   man    (no   linnet   either   in 
heart  or  person),  who  was  left  in  charge  of  the  house 
when  the  FitzGeralds  were  away,   being  once  disturbed 
by  burglars,  snatched  this  weapon  from  Oliver's  gaunt- 
leted  hand,  and,  causing  history  to  repeat  itself,  sent  his 
foes  in  full  flight  across  Naseby  Field.     The  number  of 
precious  objects  in  the  house  was,  nevertheless,  a  source 
of  constant  anxiety  to  poor  Linnet,  who  had  frequent  need 
of  his  intrepidity.     Then,  too,  there  were   horse-stealers 
and   sheep-stealers — dainty   rogues   who   carried    off   the 
prime  joints  only,  leaving  contemptuously  for  the  Fitz- 
Geralds the  mangled  carcass  with  the  skin. 

Mrs.  FitzGerald  dearly  loved  Naseby — every  inch  of  it 
— delighted  to  visit  it,  and  to  call  on,  and  send  or  carry 


44  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

presents  to,  her  old  servants,  especially  her  footman  and 
her  nurse  (Watchams  and  his  wife),  who  lived  close  to 
the  stump  of  the  old  cross,  in  the  house  at  which  Edward 
used  afterwards  to  stay.  Well  it  had  been  for  the  Fitz- 
Geralds  had  all  their  dependants  been  as  faithful  as 
doughty  John  Linnet  and  the  Watchams  ;  but  they  had 
enemies  against  whom  neither  Cromwell's  well-tried  sword 
nor  the  indefatigable  vigilance  of  the  shepherd  could 
defend  them — namely,  their  own  stewards.  One  of  these 
gentry  went  off  with  ;^7ooo,  whereupon  Mr.  FitzGerald 
provided  himself  with  another  steward,  who  turned  out 
honester,  for  though  he  too,  by  and  by,  also  dis- 
appeared suddenly,  it  was  with  only  ;^3000.  And  what 
was  Mr.  FitzGerald  doing  all  this  time?  He  was  busy, 
when  not  hunting  and  electioneering,  in  revolving 
schemes  for  making  at  his  Manchester  estate  untold 
wealth  by  coal-mining,  but  in  reality  laying  foundations 
for  untold  anxiety  and  trouble  to  himself  and  all  his 
connections.  He  was  digging  a  pit  for  himself  and  his 
houses,  and  his  friends  and  their  houses  all  to  tumble  into 
— that  was  to  swallow  him  and  them  up  as  neatly  as  the 
gulph  in  Bible  story  swallowed  up  Korah  and  Dathan 
and  all  their  belongings. 

Of  the   friendship    between    Edward    and    Mr.    Jenny 

we  have  already  spoken.      The  boy  was  also  devotedly 

attached  to  another  friend  of  his  father,  Maior 

5.  Major  Moor. 

Edward  Moor,  a  meditative  and  erudite 
Anglo-Indian  and  linguist  settled  at  Great  Dealings,^ 
a  portly  man  in  stiff,  white,  broad-brimmed  hat,  con- 
siderably too  large  for  his  head  and  constantly  threaten- 
ing to  eclipse  his  eyes,  frilled  shirt-front,  and  cut-away 
coat.  When  a  cadet  of  thirteen,  on  board  the  transport 
that  was  to  carry  him  to  India,  he  had  seen  the  Royal 

'  Bealings  House. 


MAJOR   MOOR,    WITH   STICK    P'ROM    'ROYAL  GEORtlE' 

I'l.ATE  \1. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE    47 

George  go  down — an   incident  in  connection  with  Moor 
that    FitzGerald   often   alludes  to.       This  was   in    1782. 
Years  after,   managing  to  secure  a   piece  of  wood  from 
the  sunken  vessel,  he  had  made  from  it  a  walking-stick, 
which,    out   of  doors,    became   his   constant  companion. 
One  of  his  first  actions  on  arriving  at  Madras  was,  though 
to  him  then  a  rupee  was  a  rupee,  to  buy  an  imperfect  copy 
of  Shakespeare,  whose  pages  never  ceased  to  delight  him. 
Promotion  and  opulence  followed  in  due  time,  and  while 
yet  in  India  he  published  several  works  on  Hindu  subjects, 
the  one  that  evidently  gave  him  most  pleasure  to  write 
being   the  Hindu  Pantheon.      *  Gods '  were   the  Major's 
weakness.     He  collected  them  as  one  might  collect  fossils 
or  postage  stamps — rendered  them  even  a  sort  of  rever- 
ence as  the  objects  of  other  men's  worship,  and  brought 
home  a  posse  to  Great  Bealings — little  gods,  big  gods, 
squatting  gods,  and  many-armed  gods.     And  at  length, 
wearying    of   his    hobby,    he    buried    the    whole    collec- 
tion above-ground  in  a  pyramidal  sarcophagus,  close  to 
the  drive  leading  to  his  house.     Here,  under  stone  and 
cement  and  in  Egyptian  darkness,  they  grin  to  this  day. 
A  lover  of  Tusser  and  other  antique  Suffolk  writers,  and 
of  archaic  words  and  folklore  in  general,  he  collected  the 
provincialisms  of  his   native  county,   and  embodied  the 
results  of  his  study  in  a  work  called  Sujffolk  Words  (1823). 
The    Major    and    his   Royal    George  walking-stick    and 
young  Edward   FitzGerald  had  many  an  expedition  to- 
gether.    A  glorious  man  for  a  boy  to  companion  with, 
he  it  was  who  first  gave  to  the  future  adapter  of  Omar 
Khayyam,  trotting  at  his  foot,  on  road  or  in  field,  a  taste 
for  philology  and  expressive  words,  and  first  interested 
him  in  the  glittering,  odorous,  fascinating  East.     Alas  ! 
the  Major,  like  other  folk,  had  his  faults  ;  but  FitzGerald 
never  heard  him  'charged  with  any  except  one,'  and  '  that 


48  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

was  by  a  very  humane  friend  and  fellow-magistrate  of 
his,'  who  complained  that,  though  the  Major  discoun- 
tenanced poaching,  he  '  sometimes  hindered  judicial 
business  at  the  weekly  bench,'  inasmuch  as  *you  could 
scarce  persuade  him  of  a  poor  man's  guilt. '^ 

FitzGerald's   education    began   at   a   private   school   at 

Woodbridge,  one  of  his  schoolfellows  being  Anne  Carthew, 

who  became  the  wife  of  his  future  near  neigh- 

6.  Woodbridge.  ^ 

hour,  Major  Pytches-  (' Pytches  and  West- 
minster Abbey ! ').  Even  the  derivation  of  the  word 
Woodbridge  is  interesting  to  us  in  the  light  of  Carlyle's 
lectures  on  Hero  Worship,^  which,  as  we  shall  show, 
exercised  no  little  influence  on  FitzGerald.  '  Woden's 
Bridge,'  ventures  the  philologist;  and  if  it  be  urged  that 
there  is  no  bridge  over  the  Deben  just  there,  Imagina- 
tion must  step  up  to  help  him.  The  gaunt,  one-eyed 
god,  after  stalking  disconsolately  on  the  river  wall,  and 
eyeing  wistfully  the  opposite  and  alluring  fields  of  Sutton 
and  Shottisham,  suddenly  recollects  his  divinity,  puts 
one  leg  across  the  flood,  draws  the  other  after  it,  and  the 
thing  is  done.  He  is  his  own  bridge.  Those,  however, 
who  have  not  Woden's  legs,  can  still  cross  the  river  by 
taking  the  ferry,  just  as  nothing  can  debar  the  really 
determined — the  Speddings,  Carlyles,  and  FitzGeralds, 
for  example,  of  these  pages — from  arriving  at  the  Suttons 
and  Shottishams  of  their  dreams.  That  FitzGerald  was 
without  ambition  is,  as  we  shall  show,  a  myth,  and  a 
very  foolish  one.  Of  those  ample  and  lordly  *  salt 
rivers'  which  form  the  most  striking  characteristic  of 
this  corner  of  Suffolk,  the  Deben  is  the  most  picturesque, 
and  many  a  poet,   though   none  more  persistently  than 

^  Sea  IVords  and  Phrases,  No.  i . 

2  It  was  of  Major  Pytches  that  FitzGerald  in  1864  bought  '  Little  Grange.* 

^  Odin,  or  Woden,  is  the  first  of  Carlyle's  heroes. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     49 

Mitford/  has  sung  its  broad  and  sinuous  flood,  its  islets 
'green  with  waving  samphire,'  its  pinnaces,  barges,  and 
fishers'  skiffs,  the  '  silvery  pennons '  of  its  sea  mews,  and 
the  majestic  woods  that  embosom  it  and  creep  down  to  its 
margin. 

Woodbridge,  which,  to  FitzGerald's  mind,  was  merely 
the  foil  for  the  Deben's  renown,  is  a  quaint  old  market  town 
with  a  somnolent  and  obsolete  air,  save  on  market  days, 
when  for  a  few  hours  the  inflocking  country-folk  give  it 
brogue,  spirit,  and  vivacity.  Its  shipping-trade,  formerly 
considerable,  is  now  almost  extinct,  but  the  town  keeps  up 
its  population  level  of  five  thousand,  and  presents — the 
old-world  market-place  excepted — a  far  smarter  appear- 
ance than  it  did  in  FitzGerald's  boyhood,  which,  consider- 
ing the  number  of  shrunken  towns  in  the  vicinity,  is  a 
distinction.  Proceeding  from  the  station  to  the  market- 
place, one  threads  Quay  Street  and  Church  Street,  crossing 
on  the  way  the  London  Road  (called  on  the  left  Cumber- 
land Street,  and  on  the  right  The  Thoroughfare)  and 
passing,  a  little  further  on,  the  winding  lane  that  leads  to 
the  Friends'  Meeting-House — sacred  to  the  memory  of 
Woodbridge's  once  popular  poet,  Bernard  Barton.  In 
the  middle  of  the  market-place,  which  is  wedge-shaped, 
widening  as  you  proceed  from  Church  Street,  stands  the 
Shire  Hall,  a  red-bricked  building  with  exterior  flights  of 
steps.  At  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge  is  the  Bull  Hotel,  and 
from  the  thick  end  proceeds  Seckford  Street,  in  which  are 
the  Seckford  Almshouses  (rebuilt  in  1840),  a  notable  pile, 
the  outcome  of  the  munificence  of  Thomas  Seckford, 
Woodbridge's  Elizabethan  philanthropist.  Another 
thoroughfare,    extending    from    the    broad    end    of    the 

^  Rector  of  Benhall,  near  Saxmundham,  editor  of  Gray,  and  for  many  years 
editor  of  the  Gentleman's  Magazine.  Arboriculture  his  hobby,  he  made  his 
vicarage  famous  throughout  Suffolk  by  the  great  number  of  ornamental  trees 
which  he  planted  round  it. 


50  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

market-place,  is  Theatre  Street,  which  leads  past  the 
Grammar  School  (also  Seckfordian),  erected  in  1865, 
towards  Farlingay  ;  ^  while  branching  from  Theatre  Street 
is  Bredfield  Road,  leading  to  Bredfield  and  Boulge.  As 
you  stand  in  the  market-place  and  face  'The  Bull,'  you 
have  on  your  right  St.  Mary's  church,  and  on  your  left 
the  gunsmith's  shop,  which,  on  account  of  its  FitzGerald 
associations,  will  have  much  prominence  later  in  this 
history.  North  of  the  market-place  and  its  western 
tributary  New  Street,  the  ground  rises  gently  and  forms 
Mill  Hill,  the  view  from  which,  looking  towards  the  river 
and  Sutton,  is  cut  by  the  intervening  spire  of  St.  John's 
church,^  and  hard  by  is  '  Little  Grange,'  of  which  we  shall 
shortly  have  so  much  to  say.  To  the  south-west  of  the 
town  lies  Martlesham,  lighting  up  the  county  with  its  red 
and  gold  Lion  ('  red  as  Martlesham  Lion  '  being  a  Suffolk 
saying),  an  object  that  must  have  satisfied  even  a  colour- 
loving  FitzGerald  ;  to  the  north-east  is  Ufford,  the  home 
of  Captain  Brooke. 

Owing  to  the  recent  widening  of  the  river  wall,  the 
erection  of  a  bandstand  and  shelters,  and  the  creation  of 
an  artificial  beach,  Woodbridge  and  its  river,  studded  with 
the  white  sails  of  pleasure-craft,  have  taken  on  the  habit 
of  a  seaside  resort.  When  the  tide  is  up,  indeed,  it  is 
impossible  to  disabuse  yourself  of  the  idea  that  you  are  at 
Aldeburgh  or  Felixstowe.  A  few  yellow  sea-poppies 
would  quite  complete  the  illusion.  7  ^  0 

When  Edward  was  five  the  family  went  to  reside  in 
France,   first  at  St.   Germains  and   afterwards  in  Paris, 

,    _  where    they    took    a    house   that    had    been 

7.  In  France.  •' 

The  Rodez  Robespierre's.  For  several  years  they 
murder.  fluctuated  between  Paris  and  Bredfield,  resid- 

ing a  few  months  in  France  and  a  few  months  in  England 

^  For  some  years  FitzGerald's  home.  '^  Erected  in  1842. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     51 

by  turns.  If  Edward  was  at  Bredfield  in  the  middle  of 
1815,  he  probably  saw  'the  long  strings  of  tumbrils  laden 
with  Waterloo  wounded  passing  through  Woodbridge  on 
their  way  from  Yarmouth  to  London.'  He  was  certainly 
at  Bredfield  in  the  middle  of  the  following  year,  for  he 
speaks  of  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  being  celebrated 
throughout  the  country  with  feasting  and  sports.  Among 
the  places  in  gala  was  a  village  adjoining  Bredfield, 
and  the  people  borrowed  of  FitzGerald's  father  a  pair  of 
Wellington  boots  for  the  legs  of  a  stuffed  effigy  of  Buona- 
parte, at  which  they  discharged  guns  and  pistols,  while  the 
quality,  including  the  parson  of  the  parish  and  Edward, 
sat  in  a  tent  eating  beef  and  plum-pudding  and  drinking 
loyal  toasts.^ 

In  181 7,  when  the  boy  was  again  in  Paris,  occurred  in 
France  an  event  that  ate  itself  deeply  into  his  memory — 
the  assassination  of  M.  Fualdes,  a  magistrate  of  Rodez — 
'the  great  murder,'  and  'one  of  the  most  interesting 
events  in  all  history  to  him,'  he  is  sorry  to  say.  It  was 
not  only  the  murder  itself  that  impressed  him,  '  but  the 
scene  it  was  enacted  in  ;  the  ancient,  half  Spanish  city 
of  Rodez,  with  its  river  Aveyron,  its  lonely  boulevards, 
its  great  cathedral,  under  which  the  deed  was  done.'^ 
Murders  whose  incidents  were  picturesque  or  suggestive  of 
chiaroscuro,  or  which  exposed  the  bed  and  secret  recesses 
of  the  soul,  whether  of  the  assailer  or  the  victim,  excited 
his  deep  and  perennial  interest  ;  whereas  a  brutal  common 
murder,  unaccompanied  by  startling  psychological  acces- 
sories, only  disgusted  him.  Thus  early  did  the  artist  and 
the  philosopher  reveal  themselves ;  but  we  are  not  to 
forget,  while  chronicling  this,  that  FitzGerald  was  the  milk 
of  human  kindness — boy  or  man,  lovable  and  beloved. 

^  Life  of  Lord  Houghton,  by  Wemyss  Reid,  ii.  406. 
2  Letters  to  Fanny  Kemble  (Bentley),  pp.  85  and  90. 

VOL.  I.  B 


52  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Next  year  he  was  taken  to  the  Ambigu  Comique  to  see 
a  play,  the  Chateau  de  Paluzzi,  which  was  said  to  be 
founded  on  the  Rodez  murder  ;  and  he  remembered  '  a 
closet,  from  which  came  some  guilty  personage.' 

On  19th  June  1820  there  was  a  death  in  the  family — 
that  of  FitzGerald's  eldest  sister,  Mary  Frances,  at  the 
age  of  eighteen.  She  was  buried  by  the  side  of  Mrs. 
FitzGerald's  father,  in  the  family  vault  in  old  St.  Pancras 
church.  Another  trouble  was  the  defective  eyesight  of 
his  sister  Isabella.  It  is  agreeable,  however,  to  be  able 
to  record  that  the  poor  girl  (who  was  an  accomplished 
pianist),  after  suffering  blindness  for  nine  years,  partially 
recovered  her  sight. 

The  FitzGeralds  often  made  excursions  to  the  quaint  and 
attractive,  if  rather  moist  and  woebegone,  watering-place 
8,  Aideburgh:  of  Aldeburgh ;  with  its  fens  and  meres,  habitat 
Mary  Lynn.  ^f  ^h^  sallow,  the  septfoil,  and  the  'soft,  slimy 
mallow ' ;  and  its  level  fields,  in  which  leisurely  oxen, 
that  might  have  just  stepped  out  of  the  Bible,  still  drag 
harrow  and  plough  ;  with  its  time-old,  brick-noggined, 
picturesque  moot-house,  pleasant  sands,  and  miles  of 
shifting,  rattling  shingle.  Edward's  playmate  during 
these  visits  was  a  pretty,  fun-loving  little  girl  named 
Mary  Lynn,  niece  of  his  good  friend  Major  Moor  of 
Dealings.  Sixty  years  later  he  renewed  his  acquaintance 
with  Miss  Lynn  in  the  same  town,  and  spoke  of  her 
pleasantly  as  one  of  his  '  old  friends — and  flames — Mary 
Lynn — (pretty  name).'  Here,  too,  he  underwent  the 
terrible  experience  of  being  '  ruthlessly  ducked  into  the 
wave  that  came  like  a  devouringf  monster'  under  the 
awning  of  a  bathing-machine — a  structure  whose  inside 
he  detested  to  his  dying  day.  He  was  much  struck  by 
the  melancholy  and  desolation  of  the  neighbouring 
Slaughden,  with  its  sloops  sticking  sidelong  in  the  mud. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     53 

its  wilderness  of  shingle,  its  soppy,  clammy  banks,  and 
its  ferry  that  takes  you — if  the  eye  is  to  be  relied  upon — 
to  nowhere. 

About  George  Crabbe,  Aldeburgh's  poet,  FitzGerald 
at  this  time  probably  thought  little  enough,  paddling  in 
the  sea  or  romping  in  the  sands  with  his  g.  The  Poet 
merry  playmate.  Still,  he  thought  some-  Crabbe. 
thing,  for,  thanks  to  his  mother's  partiality  for  that  poet, 
Crabbe  was  his  horn-book.  He  picked  up  lines  from 
'  The  Village  '  and  '  The  Parish  Register '  with  his  ABC 
and  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  poet  Crabbe  (and  he  looms 
so  large  in  FitzGerald's  life  that  it  is  better  to  set  down  at 
once  the  cardinal  events  of  his  career)  was  born  in  1754  at 
Aldeburgh,  the  son  of  a  saltmaster  or  collector  of  salt 
dues  at  Slaughden  Quay.  In  1771  he  was  apprenticed  to 
a  Mr.  Page,^  surgeon  at  Woodbridge,  where  he  wrote  his 
first  lengthy  poem,  '  Inebriety,'  in  1775.  Four  years 
later  he  returned  to  Aldeburgh,  where  for  a  time  he  prac- 
tised, though  with  small  success,  as  a  surgeon  ;  and  in 
1780,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  he  went  up  to  London  in  the 
Unity  sloop,  as  FitzGerald  so  often  impresses  upon  us,  to 
try  his  fortune — in  literature  above  all  things.  Strange  to 
say,  after  a  brief  struggle  with  poverty  he  succeeded  ;  but 
the  story  of  his  trials  and  success  should  be  read  in  that 
entrancing  fairy  tale,  which  has  the  additional  charm  of 
being  true.  The  Life  of  the  Rev.  George  Crabhe,  by  his 
son.  In  1 781  he  entered  the  church,  and  was  appointed 
curate  of  his  native  town.  In  1783  appeared  his  first 
important  poem,  '  The  Village,'  and  in  1785  'The  News- 
paper.' As  regards  his  writings,  there  now  ensued  a 
huge  gap  of  twenty-two  years.  Then  came  '  The  Parish 
Register' (1807),   'The  Borough'  (1810),  'Tales' (1812), 

^  Mr.    Page's    daughter    was    the    mother    of    FitzGerald's    friend,    Lord 
Hatherley. 


54  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

and  'Tales  of  the  Hall'  (1819).  After  holding  livings  in 
various  parts  of  Suffolk,  and  spending  seven  years  in 
Leicestershire,  Crabbe  settled  at  Trowbridge  (181 2)  ;  and 
in  182 1,  when  FitzGerald  and  Mary  Lynn  were  romping 
together  on  Aldeburgh  sands,  he  had  still  some  ten 
years  to  live. 

Even  the  most  venturesome  and  intrepid  lover  of 
literature  might  hesitate  before  entering  that  vast  jungle 
which  is  Crabbe  ;  and  the  poet's  sad  habit  of  enclosing 
a  tale  or  tales  within  a  tale — his  love  for  centric  and 
eccentric  wheels — adds  confusion  to  confusion.  The 
adventurer,  however,  would  be  well  repaid  for  his  trouble  ; 
for  the  poems  contain  many  words  of  wisdom,  very  many 
striking,  and  not  a  few  humorous  passages,  and  here  and 
there  a  complete  tale  excellently  told. 

The  chief  attraction  of  '  The  Parish  Register '  is  '  Roger 
Cuff';^  of  'The  Tales'  none  are  more  beseeching  than 
'The  Frank  Courtship '2  (vi.),  and  'The  Widow's  Tale'^ 
(vii.),  whilst  of  '  The  Tales  of  the  Hall '  the  best  are  the 
inner  stories  of  '  The  Maid's  Story '  and  '  Sir  Owen  Dale.' 
Abundant,  too,  is  the  debt  we  owe  to  Crabbe  for  setting 
before  us,  with  Cuyp-like,  or  even  photographic  exactness, 
picture  after  picture  of  the  long,  low  Suffolk  sea-board, 
and  of  Aldeburgh  in  particular — that  Andromeda  of  the 
East  Anglian  coast,  around  whom,  for  centuries,  the  great 
sea  dragon  has  shown,  and  now  and  again  savagely  used, 

'  '  Now  to  his  grave  was  Roger  Cuff  conveyed.' 

-  Of  the  girl  whose  parents  were  afraid  she  would  refuse  the  man  of  their 
choice.     In  reality,  however,  her  ideas  coincided  with  theirs,  and  it  ends  : 

'  Dear  child  !  in  three  plain  words  thy  mind  express — 
"Wilt  thou  have  this  good  youth?"—"  Dear  father  !  Yes."  ' 

'  Of  a  boarding-school  miss,  who  had  despised  household  duties  and  repulsed 
a  worthy  farmer  suitor,  but  afterwards  got  rid  of  her  pettish  humours,  and 
prettily  gave  the  young  man  encouragement. 

'  To  useful  arts  she  turned  her  hand  and  eye, 
And  by  her  manners  told  him — "  You  may  try."  ' 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     55 

his  terrible  teeth.  In  Crabbe,  indeed,  you  ever  hear  the 
sough,  the  plash,  and  the  moan  of  the  sea,  and  ever  look 
upon  fretted  sands  and  far-extending  sea  banks,  viri- 
descent  with  samphire  and  many-branched  saltwort ; 
whilst  seeing  or  hearing,  you  are  never  allowed  to  get 
away  from  a  moral — 

'  Still  as  I  gaze  upon  the  sea,  I  find 
Its  waves  an  image  of  my  restless  mind  ; 
Here  thought  on  thought  :  there  wave  on  wave  succeeds  ; 
Their  produce  — idle  thoughts  and  idle  weeds.' ' 

Slaughden  has  fallen  even  from  the  humble  importance 
it  had  in  FitzGerald's  early  days.  Its  shipping-trade  has 
much  decreased,  and  little  remains  of  the  village  save  a 
few  houses,  some  half-buried  in  shingle,  a  woebegone  inn 
— FitzGerald's  favourite  '  Three  Mariners ' — and  a  lonely, 
useless,  trefoil -shaped,  gigantic  tea-cake  called  the 
*  Martello  Tower,' which  lords  it  over  the  shifting  and 
rattling  shingle.  A  more  weird  or  desolate  scene  could 
not  be  imagined.  Cheerless  indeed  must  it  be  on  a  wild 
day  in  winter  when  there  are  no  sea-poppies  with  their 
glorious  yellow  to  transform  the  pebbly  wilderness  into  a 
garden  of  the  Lord  ;  and  when  the  soft,  purring,  tumbling 
sea,  transformed  into  a  demon,  precipitates  itself  in  un- 
propitiable  fury  upon  the  devoted  and  disappearing  village. 
Winter  after  winter  has  the  '  Three  Mariners '  stood  the 
shock.  Often  and  often  has  the  sea  rushed  in  at  one  door 
and  out  at  the  other  ;  but,  courageously  as  the  onslaught 
has  been  met,  the  conflict  cannot  go  on  for  ever.  There 
will  come  a  day  when  the  mop  of  the  good  wife  of  the 
'  Three  Mariners  '  will  trundle  out  the  German  Ocean  for 
the  last  time,  and  all  that  will  be  left  of  one  of  FitzGerald's 
most  frequented  haunts  will  be  the  site  where  it  stood — 
if  even  that. 

*  Fragment  written  at  Aldeburgh,  1779. 


56  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

The  boy  loved  to  mingle  with  the  sailors,  and  to  hear 
their  creepy  tales  of  smugglers  and  vaulted  caves  stocked 
with  tea  and  tobacco  and  tubs  of  spirits.  Every  fishy 
little  village  and  inlet  of  the  Suffolk  coast,  from  Kirkley  to 
Sizewell  Gap,  had  its  story  of  daring  adventure.  There 
was  the  tale  of  the  funeral  in  Kirkley  churchyard,  said  to  be 
of  somebody  who  died  at  sea,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
coffin  was  full  of  silks — the  sham  mourners  wearing  cloaks 
and  hatbands,  and  the  duped  parson  solemnly  reading  the 
burial-service  at  the  grave.  The  boy  heard  also  of  kegs 
of  Hollands  being  found  under  the  altar-cloth  of  Theberton 
church,  dreamt  of  '  chopped  hay '  (contraband  tobacco)  and 
'run  tea,'  and  looked  with  awe  on  the  revenue  cutters 
which  passed  Aldeburgh,  especially  remembering  one 
that  went  down  with  all  hands  — the  Ranger. 

Mrs.  FitzGerald,  as  we  said,  was  frequently  in  London, 
and  no  woman  in  society  dressed  better  or  looked  more 
queenly.     Her  superb  beauty,  heightened  by 
Haymarket       her  rare  taste  in  dress,  expected,  and  every- 
Theatre.  where  received,  adulation.     She  delighted  in 

the  theatre,  had  a  box  '  on  the  third  tier  '  at  the  Haymarket, 
and  numbered  among  her  friends  Mrs.  Charles  Kemble, 
one  of  the  wittiest  and  most  agreeable  women  of  the 
time  ;  and  Mrs.  Kemble's  children,  John  Mitchell,  now 
remembered  as  a  distinguished  Anglo-Saxon  scholar ; 
Fanny  (afterwards  the  '  divine  Fanny '),  a  troublesome  and 
unmanageable  child,  often  crowned  with  a  fool's  cap  ;  and 
Adelaide  (who  became  Mrs.  Sartoris),  were  occasionally 
Edward's  playmates.  A  miniature  of  Mrs.  Charles 
Kemble  '  in  a  white  dress  and  blue  scarf,  looking  with 
extended  arms  upward  in  a  blaze  of  light,'  was  among 
Mrs.  FitzGerald's  treasures.  The  boy  Edward,  whose 
affection  for  the  stage,  to  use  his  own  expression,  was 
inherited,  often  accompanied  his  mother  to  the  theatre  (the 


1    h     :^ 


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THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     59 

very  pillars  of  the  old  Haymarket  were  dear  to  him), 
heard  Madame  Vestris/  in  her  Pamela  hat  with  a  red 
feather,  sing  'Cherry  Ripe';  Miss  Stephens,  'We're 
a'  Noddin' '  ;  Rubini,^  Braham,^  and  Vaughan  ;  and 
saw  and  retailed  anecdotes  about  Madame  Pasta  ^  the 
actress,  and  Mile.  Taglioni  ^  the  danseuse — '  a  dream,  a 
vision,  floating,  literally  floating^  before  one's  eyes  as 
the  "Sylphide."' 

John,   FitzGerald's  elder   brother,   had  been   for  some 
years  at  King  Edward  the  Sixth's  School  at  Bury  St. 
Edmunds  under  Dr.   Malkin;^   and  in   1821,    ^^  At  Bury 
the  year  he  left,  Edward  and  his  brother  Peter   1821.    Peter's 
were  sent  there.     The  King  Edward's  School 
of  those  days^  was  the  long  building  in  Northgate  Street, 
now  used  as  a  High  School  for  girls.     Over  the  school- 
room door  was  a  bust  of  the  founder  with  a  Latin  inscrip- 
tion,^ and  from  the  dining-room,  which  was  on  the  south 
side,    extended    a    passage    which    led    to    the    pupils' 
studies,  situated  in  the   garden.       Dr.   Malkin,  troubled 
with  lameness,  was  a  portly,  intellectual-looking,  hand- 
some   man,    brimming     with     energy — hearty,     genial, 
humorous  ;  Mrs.   Malkin,  a  woman  of  much  strength  of 
character,  was  dignified,  vivacious,  and  kind.     Many  years 

^  Madame  Vestris  (1797-1856),  actress.  She  appeared  at  Drury  Lane  in  1820, 
and  became  famous  in  The  Haunted  Tozver  and  Paul  Pry. 

-  Giambattista  Rubini  (1795-1854),  great  tenor  singer. 

^  John  Braham  (1774-1856),  tenor  singer.  His  first  great  success  was  at 
Drury  Lane  in  1796. 

"*  Guidetta  Pasta  (1798- 1865),  actress  and  opera  singer.  Her  most  splendid 
triumphs  were  won  in  London  and  Paris  from  1825  to  1833. 

^  Maria  Taglioni  (1804-1884),  celebrated  danseuse.  Made  her  debut  in  Paris 
in  1827,  where  she  caused  a  perfect  furore.  Her  success  was  equally  great  in 
London, 

8  There  is  a  monument  to  him  in  St.  James's  Church,  Bury.  Sir  Benjamin 
Heath  Malkin,  friend  of  Macaulay,  was  his  eldest  son.  Another  son,  Frederick, 
wrote  a  History  of  Greece. 

^  The  present  school,  finished  in  1883,  is  in  the  vineyard  of  the  old  abbey. 

^  The  bust  is  gone,  the  inscription  remains. 


6o  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

after,  when  Adelaide  Kemble  remarked  to  Edward  Fitz- 
Gerald,  '  How  charming  Mrs.  Malkin  appears  to  be  ! '  he 
rephed  enthusiastically,  '  Oh,  you  can  never  know  how 
charming  she  was  ;  you  were  never  a  schoolboy  under 
her  care.'  ^  The  school  has  always  had  a  high  reputation, 
its  pupils  having  carried  off  numbers  of  the  Cambridge 
classical  prizes,  and  many  have  risen  to  eminence.  One 
of  its  features  was  the  unusual  amount  of  attention  devoted 
to  English  literature,  and  the  pains  Dr.  Malkin  took  to 
make  his  pupils  good  English  as  well  as  good  classical 
scholars.  There  was  much  essay-writing,  and  the  essays 
that  gained  approbation  were  honoured  with  a  place  in  a 
series  of  large  volumes  entitled  Musae  Burienses.  The 
year  that  Edward  entered  (1821),  the  subjects  were  'Mr. 
Hogarth's  compliments  to  Mr.  King,  and  requests  the 
honour  of  his  company  to  dinner  on  Thursday  next  to 
Eta  Beta  Pi,'  and 

'  At  her  feet  he  bowed '  {Judges  v.  27)  ; 

and  among  the  essays  honoured  were  those  of  John 
FitzGerald,  who  treated  the  first  theme  as  though  its 
meaning  was  equivocal,  and  considered  the  second  as  a 
warranty  for  comparing  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  with 
that  of  Pindar  and  other  Greek  lyrists.  A  more  suitable 
school  for  the  particular  genius  of  Edward  FitzGerald — 
for  the  incipient  poet  and  letter-writer — could  not  have 
been  found  in  all  England.  Among  his  schoolfellows 
were  his  old  playmate  J.  M.  Kemble  (destined  to  be 
'Anglo-Saxon  Kemble'),  Tom  and  James  Spedding, 
Arthur  Malkin — a  stutterer,  'always  very  kind'  to  Fitz- 
Gerald— W.  Bodham  Donne  and  William  Airy  (some 
day  to  be  Vicar  of  Keysoe),  all  of  whom  became  his  life- 
long friends.     Donne  was  of  the  same  stock  as  the  poet 

^  Further  Records  (Fanny  Kemble),  ii.  179. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AiND  THE  RED  HOUSE    6i 

Cowper,  whose  mother  was  great-aunt  to  both  Donne's 
parents,  while  Donne's  own  great-aunt  was  the  Mrs. 
Anne  Bodham  who  presented  Cowper  with  the  portrait 
which  led  to  the  writing  of  '  The  Lines  on  the  Receipt  ot 
my  Mother's  Picture.' 

Few  towns  are  historically  more  interesting  than  Bury, 
with  its  monastic  ruins,  the  great  Abbey  Gate,  the  noble 
Norman  Tower,  the  quaint  Jews'  House,  Moyses  Hall 
(now  a  museum),  Cupola  House,  the  reputed  residence 
of  Daniel  Defoe,  and  the  fine  churches,  St.  Mary's  and 
St.  James's — the  latter  with  the  pilgrim's  staff  and  scrip, 
and  the  dragon  sprawling  on  a  chalice  over  the  great 
entrance.  St.  James's  was  the  church  which  the  pupils 
of  the  school  attended  in  their  caps  and  gowns,  certain 
seats  having  time  out  of  mind  been  set  apart  for  them. 
There  seem  to  have  been  about  sixty  pupils,  half  of  whom 
were  day  scholars  or  'royalists,'  the  rest  boarders  or 
'foreigners.'  The  schoolroom,  with  great  oak  beams  in 
the  ceiling  and  a  platform  at  one  end,  presents  the  same 
appearance  as  it  did  in  FitzGerald's  boyhood  ;  and  one 
may  still  see,  though  not  there,  for  they  are  now  in  the 
new  school,  the  old  desks — massive,  ink-stained,  and  knife- 
hacked.  Before  me  lie  one  of  the  school  exercise-books, 
with  the  white  printed  label,  '  Gulielm.  Airy,  Reg.  Schol. 
Buriensis,'  and  the  date  ist  September  1823,  and  the 
speech-day  programmes  and  prize-lists  for  24th  June  1824, 
and  28th  June  1825.  In  1824  Airy  recites  'Catarach,' 
from  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  play  ;  Spedding  minor 
(James),  Gray's  '  Bard ' ;  J.  M.  Kemble,  who  had  himself 
'  the  profile  of  Alexander  as  seen  on  medals ' — straight 
nose,  parted  lips,  ample  hair — 'Alexander's  Feast'  ;  whilst 
to  FitzGerald  minor  (our  FitzGerald)  was  allotted  '  Mr. 
Bickerstaff,' — Swift.  On  another  occasion  Kemble  recited 
Hotspur's  speech,  beginning,  '  My  liege,  I  did  deny  no 


62  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

prisoners ' — the  best  piece  of  declamation  FitzGerald  ever 
listened  to. 

FitzGerald  major  (Peter),  a  rather  innocent  boy,  though 
original  enough  out  of  school,  was  very  much  of  a  dullard. 
He    was    invariably    beaten,    and    badly,    by   FitzGerald 
minor,  who  always  had  one  of  the  speeches  on  speech- 
day.     Owing,  however,  to  his  ingenuity  and  originality, 
Peter  obtained  honours  among  his   companions   in   the 
playground  and  out  of  bounds.     Accustomed  at  home  to 
driving  his  mother's  four-in-hand,  that  noticeable  equip- 
age '  of  a  good  full  yellow  colour '  with  black  horses,  he 
used  at  Bury  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  this  diversion  by 
walking  out  to  meet  the  London  coach,  the  ribbons  of 
which   he   was   permitted   to   handle.       But  his   reckless 
driving  frightened  the  passengers,  and  they  complained 
to  Dr.  Malkin,  who  put  a  stop  to  the  proceeding.     Sub- 
sequently complaint  was  made  to  the  doctor  that  Peter 
had   been    seen    dressed    as  a   mute    'driving  a   hearse 
with  four  horses  carrying  plumes,'  to  which  the  doctor 
replied   drily,    'I  don't  see  that   I    need  interfere  unless 
the  passenger  complained.'^ 

FitzGerald  looked  back  with  pleasure  to  the  days  spent 
at  Bury,  and  often  revisited  his  old  haunts.  He  would 
talk  of  the  ruins,  the  noble  and  massy  towered  gateways, 
St.  James's  church,  with  its  sun-dial  motto,  '  Go  about 
your  business,' 2  and  the  'good  old  Angel.'  Thus  Bury, 
which  had  coloured  the  lives  of  Defoe  and  Goldsmith, ^ 
entered  also,  and  for  good,  into  the  being  of  Edward 
FitzGerald. 

In  1823  FitzGerald's  father  and  mother,  who  describe 
themselves  as  'Lord  and  Lady  of  the  Manor  of  Naseby,' 
erected,  a  little  to  the  north-east  of  Naseby  village,   an 

1  Clyde's  Life  of  Edward  FitzGerald.  ^  See  Preface  to  Polonius. 

'  Associated  with  Barton  Hall. 


^^^^j!R/»^c•y»^.SM^^^  '    m  t 
THK   OBKMSK.    NASKHV 

ERECTED    IIV    FITZGKRALD'S    FATHER   AND    MO'I  HEK 


PLATE  VIII. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     65 

obelisk  to  commemorate  the  famous  battle.  Owing  to 
the  fact  that  it  stands  not  on  the  battlefield  but  a  good 
mile  away,  Carlyle  has  hurled  at  this  obelisk  la.TheNaseby 
a  perfect  dictionary  of  abusive  epithets.  Obehsk. 
To  this  'foolish  Naseby  monument,'  erected  by  'a 
blundering  Irishman,'  *  obstacle  rather  than  obelisk,' 
'this  deluding  obelisk,'  this  *ass  of  a  column,'  'block- 
head obelisk,'  that  '  might  as  well  stand  at  Charing  Cross, 
the  blockhead  that  it  is ! '  we  shall  often  in  these  pages 
have  occasion  to  refer.  It  will  be  quite  a  landmark  for 
us. 

Of  Bernard  Barton,  the  Quaker  poet  of  Woodbridge, 
Charles  Lamb's  '  B.  B.'  and  '  Busy  Bee,'  FitzGerald  must 
have  heard  at  an  early  age,  for  his  mother  13.  Bernard 
was  one  of  Barton's  admirers  and  staunchest  Barton, 
friends,  but  how  soon  the  two  became  personally  ac- 
quainted we  do  not  know.  Barton,  who  had  first  come 
to  Woodbridge  in  1806,  married  a  Woodbridge  girl, 
who  died  the  following  year  after  giving  birth  to  their 
only  child,  Lucy.  He  then  removed  to  Liverpool,  where 
he  stayed  twelve  months,  and  finally  settled  at  Wood- 
bridge  as  clerk  in  Messrs.  Alexander  and  Co.'s  bank.  Had 
he  only  remained  at  Liverpool — he  and  that  baby  daughter 
of  his — how  many  heartaches,  how  much  poignant  sorrow, 
how  many  tears  would  have  been  spared  Edward  Fitz- 
Gerald !  Inspired  chiefly  by  the  verses  of  the  elder 
Quaker  poet,  John  Scott  of  Amwell,^  Barton  began  him- 
self to  rhyme,  and  between  1822  and  1828  he  published 
five  volumes  of  poetry.  His  work  has  some  prettinesses, 
and  much  wholesome  and  Christianly  advice,  but  little 
polish  ;  indeed,  whilst  he  liked  to  set  down  what  issued 
spontaneously,  he  abhorred,  and  could  not  be  got  to  see 
the  necessity  of,  revision.     He  corresponded  with  Southey, 

^  John  Scott,  1730-17S3. 


66  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Byron,    and    Charles    Lamb,    and    would    possibly   have 
abandoned  the  bank  in  favour  of  literature  but  for  the 
strenuous  urgings  of  the  last  two.     Byron  said,   '  If  you 
have   a  profession,  retain   it';    Lamb:    'Throw  yourself 
rather,  my  dear  sir,  from  the  steep  Tarpeian  rock,  slap- 
dash headlong  upon  iron  spikes.  .  .  .  Trust  not  to  the 
public.  ...   I  bless  every  star  that  Providence,  not  see- 
ing good  to  make  me  independent,  has  seen  it  next  good 
to  settle  me  upon  the  stable  foundation  of  Leadenhall. 
Sit  down,  good  B.  B.,  in  the  banking  office.     What!  is 
there  not  from  6  to  ii  p.m.  six  days  in  the  week,  and  is 
there  not  all  Sunday  ?     Fie,  what  a  superfluity  of  man's 
time,   if  you   could   think  so  !      Enough   for   relaxation, 
mirth,  converse,  poetry,  good  thoughts,  quiet  thoughts. 
Oh  the   corroding,  torturing,   tormenting   thoughts   that 
disturb  the  brain  of  the  unlucky  wight  who  must  draw 
upon   it  for  daily  sustenance !     Henceforth   I   retract  all 
my   fond   complaints    of   mercantile    employment — look 
upon    them    as    lovers'    quarrels.       I    was    but   half    in 
earnest.       Welcome,   dead   timber  of  a   desk   that  gives 
me  life.'  ^ 

So  Barton  clung  to  his  bank,  and  he  and  his  daughter, 
destined  to  become  FitzGerald's  wife,  remained  at  Wood- 
bridge.  He  rarely  leaves  the  town,  except  to  see  his 
friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  Biddell,  at  Playford,  or  to 
visit  Benhall,  where  Mitford  seats  him  under  a  chestnut 
and  listens  to  his  oracular  sayings.  Like  his  sister  the 
nightingale,  he  has  a  grievous  defect.  'She  devours 
glow-worms,  he  takes  snuff.  "-^  He  loves  art,  of  which 
he  knows  nothing,  and  becomes  the  easy  prey  of  wily 
and  unscrupulous  picture-dealers. 

In  1823  occurred  the  second  'great  murder'  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's recollection— that  done  on  Mr.  William  Weare 

1  9th  January  1823.  2  Mitford. 


THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  THE  RED  HOUSE     67 

by  the  notorious  John  Thurtell.  Charles  Lamb,  Lord 
Lytton,^  Theodore  Hook,  and  Carlyle,  with  his  gig- 
manity,-  have  taken  care  that  this  tragic  event  14.  The  Maple's 
shall  not  escape  our  memory.  Thurtell  was  ^^*^- 
executed  at  Hertford  on  9th  January  1824.  ' 'Tis  twelve 
o'clock,'  observes  Lamb  to  Bernard  Barton,  'and  Thurtell 
is  just  now  coming  out  upon  the  new  drop.'  The  attrac- 
tion to  FitzGerald  of  murders  presenting  startling  psycho- 
logical features  has  already  been  noticed,  and  this  one — 
he  was  now  a  lad  of  fourteen — made  an  impression  on 
him  only  less  vivid  than  that  of  the  Rodez  murder  ;  and 
more  than  fifty  years  after  we  find  him  dwelling  upon 
one  moving — he  calls  it  'sublime' — circumstance:  that 
of  Thurtell  sending  for  his  accomplice  Hunt,  who  had 
saved  himself  by  turning  King's  evidence,  and,  after 
shaking  hands  with  him,  saying  '  God  bless  you — God 
bless  you  ;  you  couldn't  help  it — I  hope  you  '11  live  to  be 
a  good  man.'^  An  additional  prominence  was  given  to 
this  tragic  event  by  the  publication  of  the  lines  entitled 
'The  Owl,'  by  the  Rev.  John  Mitford,  the  weirdness  and 
picturesqueness  of  the  first  stanza  of  which  appealed 
forcibly  to  many — 

'  The  maple's  head 

Was  glowing  red, 
And  red  were  the  wings  of  the  autumn  sky, 

But  a  redder  gleam 

Rose  from  the  stream 
That  dabbled  my  feet  as  I  glided  by.'  * 

^  He  utilised  the  circumstances  in  the  incident  of  the  murder  of  Sir  John 
Tyrrell  by  Thornton  and  Dawson  in  Pelham. 

-  Weare  was  driving  in  a  gig  from  London  to  Gill's  Hill.  Q.  What  sort  of 
person  was  Mr.  Weare? — A.  He  was  always  a  respectable  person.  Q.  What 
do  you  mean  by  respectable? — A.  He  kept  a  gig. — Report  of  Thurtell's  Trial. 
See  Carlyle's  essay  on  '  Richter'  {Essays,  vol.  iii.  p.  537.     Ashburton  Ed.). 

^  See  Letters  to  Fanny  KernbU  (Bentley),  p.  152. 

*  These  lines,  according  to  Mrs.  FitzGerald,  who  was  herself  much  struck 
with  them,  first  appeared  in  Raw's  Pocket-Book  ;  they  may  also  be  seen  in  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine  for  October  1837. 


68  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

For  Mr.  Mitford's  writings  FitzGerald  had  considerable 
admiration,  and  late  in  life  he  took  the  trouble  to  collect 
them. 

In  1825,  when  FitzGerald  was  sixteen  and  about  to 
leave  Bury  School,  his  father  and  mother  moved  from 
Bredfield  to  Wherstead. 


BOOK    II 

Wherstead 
Ten  Years  (1825-1835) 


CHAPTER    II 

WHERSTEAD   LODGE 
1825 — NOVEMBER  183O 

Wherstead  is  situated  about  two  miles  to  the  south  of 
Ipswich,  from  which  it  is  approached  by  a  practically 
straight  road  commanding  fine  views  of  the  15.  wherstead 
Orwell.  On  the  right  is  Stoke  Park,  and  on  ^"^^  Ipswich, 
the  left  an  inn  showing  on  its  signboard  a  figure  of  an 
ostrich  and  the  legend  Priidens  quipatiensy  derived  from  the 
crest  of  the  Earls  of  Leicester  who  formerly  had  property 
in  the  parish.  Thence  one  mounts  Bourn  Hill,  enters 
its  red  sand-gorge,  fantastic  with  pendulous  boughs  and 
bright  with  yellow  of  broom  and  silver  of  stellaria,  passes 
the  lodge  at  the  entrance  of  Wherstead  Park,  and  follows 
a  drive  which,  winding  through  a  covert  thick  with 
ornamental  shrubs,  brings  one  at  last  to  the  house — 
'  Wherstead  Lodge ' — a  loftily  and  pleasantly  situated 
eighteenth  century  residence  of  white  brick,  covered  with 
climbing  plants  and  surrounded  by  magnificent  ornamental 
trees.  Wherstead  Lodge  boasts  an  imposing  hall  and 
staircase,  and  in  FitzGerald's  time  it  possessed  a  valuable 
collection  of  pictures,  including  canvases  by  Canaletto, 
Lely,  and  Reynolds,  brought  together  by  the  builder  of  the 
house.  Sir  Robert  Harland.  It  was  at  Wherstead  Park  in 
1823,  just  before  the  FitzGeralds'  arrival,  that  the  Duke  of 
Wellington    accidentally  discharged  his  gun  in  the  face 

VOL.  I.  c 


72  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

of  Lord  Granville.  FitzGerald  interested  himself  in  the 
villagers  of  Wherstead,  particularly  in  the  old  women, 
one  of  whom,  Mrs.  Chaplin,^  was  his  pensioner.  Wher- 
stead church  has  a  beautifully  carved  Norman  doorway, 
and  displays  above  its  striking  embattled  tower  a  huge 
black  ball,  formerly  a  sailing-mark  for  vessels  navigating 
the  Orwell.  FitzGerald's  friend.  Dr.  Merivale,  Dean  of 
Ely,  once  asked  what  the  ball  was  for,  and,  on  being  told, 
remarked  drily  that  he  was  glad  to  find  that  any  use 
could  be  made  of  a  church.  From  the  churchyard  and  its 
vicinage  glorious  views  are  seen  of  the  Orwell,  which, 
just  there  trending  eastward,  presents  the  appearance  of 
an  extensive  lake  fringed  by  picturesque  woodlands  and 
verdurous  commons.  The  ghost  of  Gainsborough  haunts 
these  levels,  and  the  heron  (there  are  cormorants  no 
longer)  stands  with  shrugged  shoulders  fishing  in  the 
ooze,  or  rises  in  flight,  his  long  legs  slanting  behind  him, 
while  the  passing  boatman  rests  his  oars  and  lustily  cries 
'  Frank ! ' 

If  FitzGerald  drew  little  spiritual  nutriment  from  the 
vicar  of  Bredfield,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he  got  even  less 
from  the  vicar  of  Wherstead.  This  gentleman,  the  Rev. 
George  Capper,  though  an  improvement  on  the  generality 
of  the  clergy  of  his  time,  was  not  only  a  pluralist  (having 
three  livings)  and  a  mighty  fox-hunter,  but  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  summer  on  his  yacht,  and  was  therefore 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  an  absentee.  In  'the  sport 
divine  *  his  congregation  were  no  less  interested  than 
himself.  It  is  recorded  that  one  Sunday  morning  during 
service  a  villager  who  had  elected  to  sleep  in  the  porch 
instead  of  inside  the  church,  noticed,  just  as  he  was 
settling  himself  comfortably,  a  vixen  stealing  along  in 
the  grass  among  the  tombs.     Forgetting  all  about  time 

^  She  died  March  1844,  aged  eighty-four. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE 

THE    HOME   OF    THE    FITZGEKALDS    FOR   TEN    YEAKS  (1825-1835) 
Frotn  a  photograph  by  R.  Eaton  ll'hite,  Esq. 


»sl:.^ 


IHK    FKURV,  CHESTERTON 
Prom  a  photograph  t'y  II'.  Tams^  Cambridge. 


PI. ATI     IX. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  75 

and  place,  he  jumped  up  and  cried  vociferously  'Tally-ho! 
Tally-ho  !  There  she  goes  ! '  and  the  congregation,  to  a 
man,  rushed  pell-mell  out  of  the  church.  One  piously 
hopes  that  the  vicar  only  looked  out  of  the  window. 

Ipswich,  lying  so  near  to  Wherstead,  was  naturally  a 
frequent  haunt  of  FitzGerald,  and  he  had  there  several 
friends,  including  the  Rev.  J.  T.  Nottige.^  The  town  is 
of  course  rich  in  mediaeval  and  ecclesiastical  associations. 
But  it  was  its  book-shops  and  not  its  churches  that  en- 
deared it  to  FitzGerald.  The  establishment  which  he 
most  favoured  was  that  of  a  Mr.  James  Reed.  Here  he 
browsed  continually.  The  novel  was  just  then  beginning 
to  shoulder  the  biography  and  the  history  out  of  the 
shelves.  The  Talisman,  successor  of  so  many  other  fine 
stories,  had  but  lately  appeared,  and  in  the  words  of  a 
rhyme  then  going  the  round,  '  Nothing  drew  but  Sir 
Walter  Scott.'  Scott  had  no  greater  admirer  than  Fitz- 
Gerald, who  read  and  re-read  him. 

On  6th  February  1826  FitzGerald  was  entered  at  Trinity 
College,    Cambridge.       He   went    into    residence   in   the 
following  October,   lodging  at  Mrs.   Perry's,    16.  At  Cam- 
subsequently  Oakley's,  No.  19  King's  Parade,    bridge,  1826- 
with  the  imposing  chapel  of  King's  College 
to  meet  his  eyes  when   he  looked  out  of  window  in  the 
morning.     Trinity  College  consists  mainly  of  three  great 
courts.     The  first  and  largest  is  entered  by  a  noble  Tudor 
gateway  ornamented  with  a  statue  of  Henry  viii.,  of  meek 
and  celibate  memory.     Entering    the    great    court    you 
notice  in  the  middle  the  conduit,  on  your  right  are  the 
chapel  and  King  Edward's  tower,  and  on  your  left  Queen's 
tower — the  rest  of  the  quadrangle  being  mainly  occupied 
by  the  apartments  of  fellows  and  students.    A  semi-circular 
flight  of  steps  on  the  west  side  brings  you  to  a  passage, 

*  He  died  2  ist  January  1S47. 


76  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

'  The  Screens '  (with  the  hall  on  the  right  and  the  kitchen 
on  the  left),  leading  into  the  cloistered  or  Neville's  court, 
the  west  side  of  which  is  occupied  by  the  library,  designed 
by  Wren.  Thence  one  can  reach  the  third  large  quad- 
rangle, the  New  Court,  and  approach  the  river  by  an 
avenue  of  limes.  The  master  of  Trinity  in  FitzGerald's 
time  was  Christopher  Wordsworth,  youngest  brother  of 
the  poet,  and  '  like  all  the  Wordsworths,  pompous  and 
priggish.'  He  recommended  everybody  to  read  Aristo- 
phanes.^ His  drawling  out  of  the  chapel  responses  led  the 
undergraduates  to  call  him  the  '  meeserable  sinner,' and 
naturally  it  occurred  to  them  to  call  his  brother  '  the 
meeserable  poet.'  Among  the  tutors  were  the  future  Dean 
Peacock  and  Connop  Thirlwall  (afterwards  Bishop  of 
St.  David's).  Just  as  FitzGerald  entered  Cambridge  there 
left  it,  and  in  ill  odour,  an  Edward  Marlborough  Fitz- 
Gerald, a  fact  which,  combined  with  other  reasons  not 
given,  caused  FitzGerald  to  dislike  heartily  his  own  name, 
and  led  him  on  most  occasions  to  use  as  a  signature 
merely  the  initials  E.  F.  G.  Among  his  fellow-students 
was  John  Allen,  who  became  Archdeacon  of  Salop,  and 
for  his  few  sins  stood  to  Thackeray  for  the  portrait  of  the 
tender-hearted  gaby  Captain  Dobbin. ^  Allen  was  a  tall, 
thin,  dark  youth  with  black  hair  and  a  plaintive  voice. 
He  occupied  rooms  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  tower  at  the  top 
of  a  treble  flight  of  steps,  which  his  crane  legs  mounted 
three  at  a  time.^  Chief  of  FitzGerald's  friends,  however, 
was  William  Makepeace  Thackeray,  who  went  into  resi- 
dence in  1829.  His  rooms  were  on  the  ground-floor  of  the 
great  court,  one  set  of  chambers  removed  from  the  chapel. 

^  See  Gentlemafi's  Magazine,  vol.  xxiii.  p.  459. 

^  In  Vanity  Fair. 

^  Mr.  W.  Aldis  Wright  writes  to  me  :  'John  Allen,  afterwards  Archdeacon, 
went  into  the  rooms  at  the  top  of  the  Queen's  Gateway  on  the  south  side  of  the 
old  court  in  the  Lent  term  of  1829.    This  would  be  his  second  term  of  residence.' 


FITZGERALD'S  LODGINGS  (MRS.   PERRY'S) 

ig  king's  I'ARADE,  CAMBRIDGE  (.NOW  DEMOLISHEIj) 
From  a  p:iotOj;rafli  by  II'.  lams,  CambrUge. 


PLATE  X. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  79 

To  Thackeray,  FitzGerald  was  by  turns  Ned,  Neddibus, 
Neddikins,  and  Yedward.  Other  friends  of  this  period 
were  Francis  Duncan  (who  became  Rector  of  West 
Chelborough,  Somerset),  W.  H.  Thompson  (who  rose  to 
be  Master  of  Trinity)  ;  Frank  B.  Edgeworth,  brother  of 
'  the  great  Maria '  ;  Charles  Duller,  who  had  been  the 
pupil  of  Carlyle,  and  was  to  obtain  distinction  in  parlia- 
ment ;  Frederick  Maurice  ;  Richard  Trench  ;  FitzGerald's 
fellow-Burians  John  M.  Kemble  and  James  Spedding ; 
and  Richard  Monckton  Milnes.  Charles,  Frederic,  and 
Alfred  Tennyson  were  contemporaries  at  Cambridge, 
but  FitzGerald  did  not  become  acquainted  with  them  till 
after  he  had  left  Trinity.  King  Henry  on  the  gateway, 
the  learned  centuries  and  the  shades  of  Bacon,  Barrow, 
Newton,  and  Dryden,  whole  platoons  of  men  of  genius, 
cast  interested  eyes  on  the  new  undergraduate  as  he  passes 
among  those  grey  walls  and  towers  and  admonish  him 
to  high  labours.  At  first  FitzGerald  is  disposed  to  listen 
to  them,  but  gradually  he  becomes  indolent  and  devotes 
more  attention  to  desultory  reading,  music,  and  painting 
than  to  systematic  study  ;  and  when  King  Henry,  the 
learned  centuries,  Barrow  and  Bacon  frown,  he  says  in 
extenuation  of  his  conduct  that  the  professors  take  no 
personal  interest  in  the  students — their  lectures  are  the 
drone  of  a  bagpipe,  or  the  monotonous  note  of  the  storm- 
cock,  and  so  uninteresting.  '  None  indeed  but  dryheaded, 
calculating,  angular  little  gentlemen  '  can  take  delight  in 
them.^  FitzGerald,  indeed,  made  an  indifferent  machine. 
He  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  win  honours  at  a  university. 
He  studies  the  classics,  not  because  they  are  to  advance 
him,  but  out  of  sheer  love  for  them.  Virgil  is  to  him  a 
living  man  ;  he  gathers  real  crocuses  with  Sophocles  at 
Colonus.     He  has  no  intention,  like  so  many  others,  of 

^  Tennyson. 


8o  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

flinging  his  books  away  after  taking  his  degree  ;  but  he 
will  read  what  interests  him  and  that  only,  let  Henry  and 
the  centuries  think  what  they  like,  and  even  if  he  should 
never  get  his  degree  at  all. 

*  The  Union '  of  FitzGerald's  time  met  in  a  *  low,  ill- 
ventilated,  ill-lit,  cavernous,  tavernous  gallery '  at  the  back 
of  the  '  Red  Lion  Inn '  in  Petty  Cury,  where,  '  on  stated 
evenings,  was    much    logic   and   other   spiritual   fencing 
and  ingenious   collision.'      Several   distinguished    them- 
selves, but  Spedding  and  one  Sunderland,  who  treated 
them  to  too  much  Tom   Paine,   were  the  acknowledged 
luminaries.     Here  Thackeray  *  made  a  fool '  of  himself, 
'sputtering  on  the  character  of  Napoleon.'     FitzGerald, 
however,  was  content  to  listen  and  criticise.     The  under- 
graduates gathered  in  one  another's  rooms  of  evenings, 
and  smoked,  chatted,  and  drank  coffee.    Allen,  Spedding, 
and  Thackeray  (FitzGerald's  chief  friends)  often  came  to 
Mrs.   Perry's,  and  there  was  much  wit,  pointy  talk,  and 
Baconian  philosophy  ;  for  Spedding,  '  the  pope  among  us 
young  men,'^  had  already  begun  the  censing  of  his  idol. 
Sometimes   the    meetings  were    in   Allen's  tower,  where 
Allen  would  sit,  feet  in  fender,  folio  on  knee,  and  hold 
forth  about  Milton  and  Boswell's  Johnson.     Although  to 
the  ordinary  Cambridge  studies  FitzGerald  applied  him- 
self only   intermittently  and    languidly,  he  was  framing 
'many  ambitious  schemes,'  his  principal   hope  being  to 
dazzle  the  world  with   his   literary  productions.      These 
projects   he   was  wont  to   discuss   with  Francis  Duncan 
in    the    course    of   their   walks    in    the    meadows   around 
Cambridge. 

It  would  be  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  he  who  lives 
in  the  future  can  live  in  the  present.  Consequently  it  is 
not  surprising  that  FitzGerald  did  not  know  how  many 

^  Tennyson. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  8i 

holes  were  in  his  stockings,  or  how  many  buttons  on  his 
coat,  or  whether  he  was  suitably  provided  with  boots. 
When  his  mother  called  at  Cambridge  in  that  superb 
yellow  coach,  with  four  black  horses,  and  sent  a  man- 
servant to  Mrs.  Perry's  to  bid  her  son  come  to  her,  he  was 
unable  to  comply,  his  only  pair  of  boots  being  at  the 
cobbler's.  Some  of  the  university  experiences  of  Fitz- 
Gerald  and  Thackeray  are  recorded  in  Pendennis.  For 
Arthur  Pendennis,  Thackeray  drew  on  himself  and  on 
another,  who  shall  presently  be  mentioned  ;  whilst  in 
Warrington  there  are  reflections  of  FitzGerald.  Knowing 
FitzGerald's  fondness  for  music,  Thackeray  presented  him 
with  an  idea  for  a  new  musical  instrument,  a  sketch  called 
'the  Hogmagundy,'  which  shows  a  number  of  pigs  with 
their  tails  hanging  through  the  holes  in  the  footboard  of 
a  wooden  bedstead,  whilst  a  girl,  with  music-book  to 
guide  her,  is  playing  the  instrument  by  pulling  their 
tails.  ^  Thackeray  and  FitzGerald  were  fond  of  singing 
together  the  '  rather  free '  Cavalier  song — 

'  Troll,  troll  the  merry  brown  bowl,' 

and  many  years  after,  FitzGerald  adapted  Thackeray's 
own  song,  '  Ho,  pretty  page,'  to  the  same  tune.  Thanks 
largely  to  the  energy  of  his  tutor,  'one  Williams,'  Fitz- 
Gerald finally  managed  to  obtain  his  degree  (January 
1830).  If  Bury  had  been  delightful  to  him,  very  delightful 
too,  despite,  perhaps  by  reason  of,  his  indolence,  were  his 
Cambridge  days.  He  held  with  Roger  Ascham,  whose 
words  he  quotes  in  a  notebook :  '  He  that  is  able  to 
mayntain  his  lyfe  in  learning  at  Cambridge  knoweth  not 
what  a  felycitie  he  hath,'  and  in  Ascham's  words  too  he 
could  say  of  his  intimate  friends  there,   '  I  doe  salute  you 

^  See  Biographical  Edition  of  Thackeray's  Works,  ii.  p.  xxxi. 


82  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

all :  I  name  none,  because  I  would  leave  out  none,  and 
because  I  love  all.'  ^ 

Of  the  many  excursions  made  by  FitzGerald  and  his 
friends  while  at  Cambridge,  we  get  hints  and  echoes  in 

^,    ,^,        Euf)hranor.     One  of  them  indeed  is  minutely 

17.  The '  Three  ^  "^ 

Tuns'atChes-  described:  It  is  a  bright  day  in  May,  and 
terton.  ^^^  author,  whilst  pretending  to  study,  is  dis- 

turbed by  Euphranor,  who  insists  on  a  row  on  the  river, 
a  walk,  or  a  game  at  billiards  at  Chesterton,  a  neighbour- 
ing village.  The  pair  break  in  upon  the  studies  of 
Lexilogus,  a  thin,  pale,  spectacled  creature,  who  would 
rather  have  been  left  alone  ;  and  presently  all  three  run 
down  stairs,  cross  the  Great  Court,  thread  the  Screens, 
and  pass  through  Neville's  Court  to  the  open  green  before 
the  Library.  Taking  a  boat,  they  presently  pass  the 
'closely  packt  barges  at  Magdalen,'  and  through  the 
locks,  pull  a  few  miles  down  the  river,  and  then  return  to 
the  ferry,  where  they  surrender  their  boat,  and  foot  it  over 
the  fields  to  Chesterton,  and  the  'Three  Tuns  Inn.'^  On 
the  bowling-green  of  this  hostelry  they  find  another 
student,  Lycion,  '  rolling  the  bowls  about  lazily  with  his 
foot.'  There  is  much  academic  talk,  chiefly  upon  educa- 
tion and  exercise,  and  ranging  from  Don  Quixote  to 
Waller,  and  from  Aristotle  to  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  and 
then  a  dinner  in  the  little  parlour  '  very  airy  and  pleasant, 
with  its  windows  opening  on  the  bowling-green,  the  table 
laid  with  a  clean  white  cloth,  and  upon  that  a  dish  of 
smoking  beef-steak.'  They  return  just  in  time  to  see  a 
boat-race.  There  are  townsmen  and  gownsmen,  '  with 
the  tasselled  fellow-commoner  sprinkled  here  and  there,' 

^  Letter  from  Ascham  to  Mr.  Raven.  Copied  by  FitzGerald  into  his  Museum 
Book,  1883. 

-  The  Ferry  is  the  Horse  Grind  adjacent  to  Roebuck  House ;  the  fields  are 
now  built  upon ;  the  Three  Tuns  is  a  private  residence,  '  Cambridge  House,' 
somewhat  altered,  but  substantially  the  same. 


CAMBRIDGE    HOUSE,  CHESTERTON 

FOK.MEUl.Y    'the    THREE    TUXS'    IN'N 


Frotn  a  photoi;raph  hy  IF.  Tains,  L  amhridgt 


*■  ""   'mmil^;: 


i.l'.l,l)K>l()NE    HAI.I, 


ri.ATIl  XI. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  85 

reading  men  and  sporting  men,  masters  of  colleges, 
ladies.  'They  are  off — they  are  coming!  Bravo,  St. 
John's  !  Go  it,  Trinity  ! '  It  is  all  over :  the  ensign  of 
Trinity  drops,  the  eagle  of  St.  John  rises.  Questions  and 
chatter,  then  a  walk  home  '  across  the  meadow  leading  to 
the  town,  whither  the  dusky  troops  of  gownsmen,  with 
their  confused  voices,  seemed,  as  it  were,  evaporating  in 
the  twilight,  while  a  nightingale  began  to  be  heard  among 
the  flowering  chestnuts  of  Jesus. '^ 

Reference  has  several  times  been  made  to  FitzGerald's 
brother  John.  Admittedly  they  were  not  twins,  but 
Antipholus  of  Ephesus  and  Antipholus  of  18.  The  Two 
Syracuse  were  not  more  like  each  other  in  Antiphoiuses. 
character  and  disposition,  whilst  their  resemblance  in 
person  struck  even  the  most  unobservant.  The  anecdotes 
told  of  John  resemble  very  closely  those  told  of  Edward, 
and  it  may  be  boldly  said  that  if  Edward  did  anything, 
John  would  have  done  pretty  nearly  the  same  thing  in  the 
same  circumstances.  There  is  no  need  here,  however,  to 
point  out  the  resemblances  between  these  '  two  goodly 
sons,' 

'The  one  so  like  the  other 
As  could  not  be  distinguished  but  by  names,' 

for  those  will  be  made  clear  enough  as  the  book  proceeds. 
While  Edward  was  at  Cambridge,  John,  whose  passion 
was  the  study  of  the  Bible,  of  which  he  had  a  phenomenal 
knowledge,  was  preparing  sedulously  for  the  church, ^ 
which  had  always  been  his  ambition  ;  but  an  attack  of 
brain  fever,  which  affected  his  eyes,  put  an  end  to  all  his 
hopes.      By  and    by   he   married,    and   very   happily,    a 

'  The  work  Euphranor  is  dealt  with  in  Chapters  vi.  and  ix. 
-  '  Uncle  James  took  it  into  his  head  that  one  of  his  brother's  family  should  be 
a  parson.' — Euphranor. 


86  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Miss  Augusta  Jane  Lisle  Phillips,^  a  lady  of  most  sweet 
and  beautiful  character,  to  whom  Edward  pays  several 
tributes.  John  had  already  turned  to  authorship,  but  was 
interested  less  in  literature  than  in  social  and  religious 
questions,  as  may  be  seen  from  his  tract,  Plain  Advice 
on  Drinking  and  Drunkenness^  1828,  the  first  of  a  long 
series  of  books  and  pamphlets  from  his  pen.  He  did  not 
so  much  read  the  Bible  as  live  in  it.  It  became  part  of 
him.  His  duty,  he  conceived,  was  to  write  and  preach 
against  what  seemed  to  him  the  most  lamentable  vices  of 
the  day — the  slave-trade,  drunkenness,  and  everything 
tending  to  Romanism.  Against  these  he  warred  all  his 
life  and  with  all  his  might. 

After  leaving  Cambridge,  FitzGerald  paid  a  visit  to 
his  sister  Eleanor  (Mrs.  Kerrich)  at  Geldestone  Hall 
19.  Mrs.  C  Gelson  '),  two  miles  north-west  of  Beccles, 

r^'^^r'^'PL      ^^^  pleasant  town  on  the  Waveney,   which 
Bon  Pasteur,     has    absolutely    no    fault    except   its    name, 
ornjos.  FitzGerald    said    that   it  always    put  him    in 

mind  of  hooks  and  eyes.  But  he  loved  the  quaint  ir- 
regularity of  its  streets,  its  bright  river,  and  the  grand  old 
church  tower,  standing  a  short  distance  from  the  church 
itself,  a  circumstance  referred  to  by  the  Caroline  poet 
Matthew  Stevenson — 

'  He  does  himself  'twixt  this  and  t'other  tide, 
Like  Beccles  steeple  from  the  church's  side.'  ^ 

The  top  of  the  tower  commands  fine  views  of  the  sur- 
rounding country.  To  the  north-west  Geldestone  stands 
out  a  conspicuous  little  white  cube  embosomed  in  foliage  ; 
on  the  south-west,  one  can  descry  some  of  the  villages  of 
the  country  of  The  Nine  Saints  ;  on  the  east  stretches  the 
dim  blue  outline  of  Lowestoft ;  on  the  north  the  wooded 

^  See  Chapter  v.  "^  See  Getitleman's  Magazitte,  1835. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  87 

country  of  Haddiscoe.      To  reach  Geldestone  Hall  one 
crosses   the  Waveney   and   proceeds   by   a   raised    path, 
beautiful    in    summer-time  with  the    rich    purple   of  the 
vetch,  and  passes  through  the  village  of  Gillingham,  with 
its  two  churches,  the  Norman  still  used,  the  Perpendicular 
(and  far  later  church)  in    ruins.      Geldestone    Hall  is  a 
substantial  mansion,  and  its  outward  appearance  has  not 
altered  materially  since  the  days  when  FitzGerald  visited 
it  and  walked  backwards  and  forwards  to  Beccles.     The 
house  contained    a  considerable  collection  of  curiosities, 
which   Mr.    Kerrich  took  great  delight  in   showing  and 
explaining.     Of  Mrs.  Kerrich,  his  best  loved  sister,  Fitz- 
Gerald has  left,  in  an  inedited  manuscript,^  the  following 
portrait  : — '  Mrs.     Kerrich    is   a   clever   person,    fond    of 
literary  pursuits,  absent,  careless,  fond  of  educating  and 
giving  advice  ;   is   a   thinking,   grave,   and  staid-minded 
person,  very  unsophisticated  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  not 
easily  pleased,  expects  much  attention.'     To  this  lovable 
woman    and    her   husband    FitzGerald's    letters    contain 
many    references^    and    he   was    much   attached   to  their 
children.     At  Beccles  his  chief  friend  was  Dr.   William 
Edward  Crowfoot,^  Mrs.   Kerrich's  medical  adviser  ;  and 
he  was  a  frequent  visitor  both  at  Dr.  Crowfoot's  house  on 
the  Market  Place  and  at  the  Misses  Crowfoot's  house  in 
Blyburgate  Street.      Subsequently    Beccles   became  still 
further  interesting   to  FitzGerald,   as  the  birthplace  and 
home  of  Mr.  W.  Aldis  Wright,  who  was  one  of  the  most 
intimate  friends  of  his  latter  days. 

In  1830  FitzGerald  was  staying  with  his  Aunt  Purcell 
in  Paris.  Thackeray  was  also  in  Paris,  and  of  course 
they  forgathered.  How  they  spent  their  time  may  be 
gleaned   from    Thackeray's   early    Essays    and    Ballads. 

^  In  the  possession  of  the  Rev.  E.  Kenworthy  Browne. 
2  He  lived  till  I2th  May  1887. 


88  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Their  mornings  were  passed  at  the  Louvre,  where 
Thackeray  pleased  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  was 
studying  art.  FitzGerald,  however,  was  attracted  less  by 
the  pictures  than  by  the  statuary.  The  friends  liked  to 
visit  the  Louvre  on  a  Sunday  after  church,  to  watch  the 
crowd  of  shopmen,  soldiers,  grisettes,  and  livery  servants 
enjoying  the  pictures.  They  lounged  on  the  Boulevards 
and  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  no  doubt  dined  together 
at  Terre's  on  that  rich  savoury  stew  which  Thackeray  has 
sung  in  '  The  Ballad  of  Bouillabaisse.'^  This  same  year, 
and  at  Paris  too,  Victor  Hugo  was  writing  his  Notre 
Dame,  Balzac  his  Peau  de  Chagrin  ;  and  Thackeray 
refers  to  the  Parisian  litterateurs  blustering  about  '  in 
velvet  and  mustachios  and  gold  chains.'  George  Sand, 
who  had  not  begun  to  write,  was  just  then  contemplating 
the  dismissal  of  her  boorish  husband.  One  fine  evening 
FitzGerald  stopped  on  the  Boulevards  by  the  Madeleine 
to  listen  to  a  street  singer.  Several  passing  '  blouses ' 
had  stopped  also,  not  only  to  listen,  but  to  join  in  the 
songs,  having  bought  little  '  libretti '  of  the  words  from 
the  musician.  FitzGerald  also  bought  one  and  assisted  in 
the  song,  '  which  the  man  called  out  beforehand  (as  they 
do  hymns  in  church).'^  This  song,  '  Le  Bon  Pasteur,' 
FitzGerald  preserved,  and  copied  into  a  commonplace 
book  which  he  called  '  Half-Hours  with  the  Worst 
Authors.'^     It  begins — 

'  Bo7is  habitants  de  ce  village 
Pretez  Poreille  un  moment^ 

and  each  stanza  ends — 

'£■/  le  bo)i  Dieii  vous  bhiira? 


*  Biographical  Edition,  xiii.  p.  62. 
^  Letters  to  Fanny  Ketnbte  (Bentley),  p.  31. 

^  Subsequently    called    '  Half-Hours    with   Obscure  Authors.'     Mr.  Aldis 
Wright  showed  me  this  at  Cambridge. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  89 

Balzac  compared  '  luxurious  Paris '  that  year  to  a  sand- 
pit— once  in,  escape  was  impossible.  Soirees,  breakfasts, 
theatres — a  perpetual  whirl.  FitzGerald  and  Thackeray, 
however,  managed  to  get  away  at  the  end  of  May.  Fitz- 
Gerald, full  of  Utopian  ideas  about  Society,  and  resolved 
to  become  'a.  great  bear,'  crossed  to  Southampton,  whilst 
Thackeray  made  for  Germany.  John  Allen,  who  hap- 
pened just  then  to  be  staying  at  Portsmouth,  having 
heard  that  '  the  most  dear  FitzGerald '  was  at  South- 
ampton, walked  over  with  a  friend  to  see  him  (loth  August 
1830).  Arriving  late,  however,  they  found  that  Fitz- 
Gerald had  gone  to  bed.  Says  Allen  of  the  next  morning: 
'  Got  up  and  went  to  FitzGerald's  room,  who  jumped  up 
and  almost  cried  for  joy  to  see  me,  dear  affectionate 
fellow  !  After  breakfast,  though  very  stiff,  walked  with 
him  to  Netley  Abbey,  and  tried  to  make  him  steady  in  his 
views  on  religion.'^  Thackeray  wrote  to  FitzGerald  from 
Weimar,  and  sent  a  picture  of  himself  in  breeches  and 
cocked  hat,  as  he  had  appeared  before  the  Grand  Duke,- 
and  was  able  to  boast  that  he  had  been  introduced  to 
Goethe. 

These  were  the  days  of  the  Torrijos  fiasco.  A  number 
of  needy  Spanish  political  refugees  in  London,  under  the 
leadership  of  the  courtly  and  accomplished  General 
Torrijos,  determined  to  make  a  descent  on  Spain  with  a 
view  to  bringing  about  an  insurrection  and  the  establish- 
ment of  a  constitutional  government.  FitzGerald's  friend, 
John  Kemble,  had  seemed  inclined  to  enter  the  church, 
and  Tennyson  had  addressed  to  him  a  fine  sonnet,  which 
proved,  however,  to  be  only  poetry  and  not  prophecy. 
Instead  of  becoming  a  'later  Luther'  and  a  'soldier 
priest,'  he  caught  the  enthusiasm  of  Sterling  and  other 

1  yoAn  Allen,  by  R.  M.  Grier  (Rivingtons),  p.  33. 
'^  There  are  reminiscences  of  this  visit  in  Vanity  Fair. 


90  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

hot-headed  Cambridge  democrats,  and,  embracmg  a 
quarrel  not  his  own,  followed  Torrijos  to  Spain.  These 
youths,  however,  '  helped  the  cause,'  not  by  fighting,  but 
by  sight-seeing  and  drinking  ale  ;  and  Fanny  Kemble 
pictures  her  brother  '  holding  forth  upon  German  meta- 
physics,'^ which  grow  dense  in  proportion  as  the  tobacco 
fumes  grow  thick  and  his  glass  grows  empty.  Having 
spent  their  money,  they  returned  home,  scathless,  but  full 
of  fervour.^  John  Kemble,  indeed,  could  talk  of  nothing 
but  Torrijos,  and  he  sang  in  FitzGerald's  room  in 
Russell  Street  the  insurrectionary  song,  *  Si  un  Elio  ^ 
conspiro  allevo.'  The  end  of  poor  Torrijos  and  his 
forty-five  fighters  was  a  melancholy  and  inglorious  one. 
They  were  all  captured  near  Malaga,  and  summarily 
shot.^  Thackeray  returned  from  Germany,  and,  very 
thick  with  Kemble,  was  now  perched  on  a  stool  in  a 
lawyer's  office,  from  which  giddy  eminence  he  sent  Fitz- 
Gerald  a  picture  of  himself,  stool,  desk,  and  all. 

About  this  time  FitzGerald's  father  purchased,  subject 
to  a  life-interest  in  it  of  an  aged  lady,  Madam  Short,  the 
old  manorial  house,  Boulge  Hall,  situated  about  a  mile 
from  his  former  residence,  Bredfield  White  House.  Of 
Madam  Short,  an  imperious  and  tetchy  old  lady,  many 
odd  tales  are  told,  and  one  of  them  concerns  us  here. 
She  and  her  husband,  Colonel  Short,  often  fell  out,  and 
at  such  times  the  Colonel  would  speak  only  to  his  dog, 
she  to  her  cat.  After  a  particularly  bitter  quarrel,  Mrs. 
Short  declared  she  would  live  with  her  husband  no 
longer.  She  therefore  built  herself,  near  the  Hall  gates, 
a  two-roomed   thatched  cottage,   with  apartments  in  the 

^  Records  of  a  Girlhood,  ii.  p.  282. 
-  Kemble  returned  21st  May  1831. 
3  Elio,  a  Spanish  general,  executed  in  1822. 

*  November    1831.     See   Carlyle's   Life    of  Sterling,  and   Fanny  Kemble's 
Records  of  Later  Life,  p.  133. 


WHERSTEAD  LODGE  91 

rear  for  servants  ;  and  the  rest  of  her  life  was  spent  there, 
or  at  the  Hall,  according  as  she  and  her  husband 
happened  or  happened  not  to  be  on  good  terms.  This 
was  the  cottage  which  became  for  so  many  years  the  home 
of  Edward  FitzGerald. 


CHAPTER    III 

NASEBY  AND  TENBY 
NOVEMBER  183O — MAY  1834 

Bibliography 

1.  The  Meadows  in  Spring,          ....  Written  183 1 

2.  Will  Thackeray, ,,1831 

3.  Canst  thou,  my  Clora?    .....  ,,      1832 

4.  On  Anne  Allen, ,,      1833 

In  November,  FitzGerald  is  at  Naseby  ensconced  in  a 
comfortable  farmhouse.  He  looks  round  the  old  home, 
20  At  Naseby  '  "^^^  Woollcys ' ;  hobanobs  with  Watchams, 
'The Meadows  John  Linnet  (whose  daughter  Sarah  is  weak 
pnng:,  .^  ^^  head  and  '  can't  abear  Cromwell '),  the 
blacksmith,  who  is  a  great  repertory  of  tradition  respecting 
the  battle,  and  understands  it  as  well  as  if  he  had  trailed 
a  pike  there,  and  the  aged  and  venerable  vicar,  the  Rev. 
John  Marshall.  He  dines  also  with  Ringrose  the 
carpenter — Naseby  is  full  of  Ringroses ;  hears  Miss 
Ringrose  play  the  piano  ;  visits  the  battlefield  for  bones, 
bullets,  and  fossils  ;  writes  to  John  Allen,  '  I  am  quite  the 
king  here,  I  promise  you '  ;  and  makes  a  sensation  at 
church  with  a  magnificent  blue  surtout  or  frock-coat  (he 
loved  splendid  colours),  which  not  only  astonished  Naseby 
but  afterwards  proved  the  theme  of  infinite  jest  among 
his  friends.  Most  memorable  event  of  all,  however,  he 
composes  that  pleasant  poem  with  the  Elizabethan  flavour 

92 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  93 

entitled  'The  Meadows  in  Spring.'     The  poet  begins  with 
references  to  the  amenities  of  winter — 

'When  such  a  time  cometh, 
I  do  retire 
Into  an  old  room 
Beside  a  bright  fire.' 

He  then  goes  on  to  tell  us  how  he  reads,  smokes,  and 

talks  to  a  friend  whilst  nought  passes  between  them  '  save 

a  brown  jug '  ;    but   when    the   clouds   part   and   spring 

comes — 

'  I  jump  up  like  mad, 

Break  the  old  pipe  in  twain, 
And  away  to  the  meadows, 
The  meadows  again.' 

These  verses  appeared  in  Hone's  Year  Book,  30th  April 
183 1,  and  a  variant  in  the  Athenceum  on  July  9th  had  the 
honour  of  being  praised  by  Charles  Lamb,  who  said,  '  'Tis 
a  poem  I  envy — that  and  Montgomery's  "  Last  Man  " — I 
envv  the  writers  because  I  feel  I  could  have  done  some- 
thing  like  them/  How  soon  FitzGerald  began  to  write 
poetry  we  do  not  know,  though  he  may  be  said  to  have 
been  cradled  in  it.  A  whole  galaxy  of  poets  and  poetesses, 
most  of  whom  were  his  intimate  acquaintances,  sang  the 
vales,  and  pittering  brooks,  and  broad  estuaries,  and 
vanished  cities  of  his  native  Suffolk.  Indeed  the  south- 
eastern portion  of  the  county  was  a  veritable  Boeotia,  with 
the  Deben  and  the  Aide  for  its  Hippocrene  and  Aganippe. 
Of  Crabbe,  Barton,  and  Mitford  we  have  already  spoken  ; 
but  there  were  others  who,  if  less  famous,  were  no  less 
familiar  to  FitzGerald.  There  was  James  Bird  of  Yoxford 
(1788-1839),  bookseller  and  giant,  'six  feet  his  stature, 
as  an  arrow  straight,'  whose  themes  were  the  Vale  of 
Slaughden  ^    and    Dunwich,    which     he     credited    with 

'  Published  in  1819.     '  There  winds  a  vale  beside  the  rolling  sea.' 
VOL.   I.  D 


94  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Arthurian  splendour  ;  and  there  was  G.  W.  Fulcher,  '  the 
Crabbe  of  Sudbury,'  who  in  touching  verse  proclaimed  the 
hardships  of  the  deserving  poor.  Nor  was  the  gentler 
sex  mute.  Mrs.  Biddell,  Mrs.  Fulcher,  and  Miss  Charles- 
worth  (whose  poems  FitzGerald  used  to  revise,  and  who 
addressed  verse  to  his  sister  Isabella)  added  to  the 
harmony.  Mrs.  Biddell's  house  at  Playford  was  a  Suffolk 
literary  salon  where  all  the  local  wits  and  poets  met  to  talk 
about  the  Muses  and  say  smart  things  over  dinners  that 
lasted  from  three  in  the  afternoon  till  nine  in  the  evening. 
An  occasional  guest  at  those  gatherings  was  Robert 
Southey,  whose  poem  on  a  '  Holly  Tree '  ^  at  Playford 
is  among  the  best  of  his  rhythmic  productions.  If  it  be 
urged  that  Mrs.  Biddell's  poets  are  most  of  them  forgotten, 
it  may  be  claimed  for  most  that  fame  was  not  their 
aspiration.  Indeed  they  did  all  they  could  to  avoid  it, 
coyly  hiding  their  identities  behind  initials,  asterisks,  and 
anons — quite  content  to  see  their  effusions  in  print  in 
some  'Annual'  or  '  Pocket  Book.'  Silly  (that  is  'guileless') 
Suffolk,  dropping  for  the  moment  her  ribboned  crook, 
was  making  her  valleys  tuneful  with  the  oaten  flute.  All 
the  members  of  this  coterie  being  FitzGerald's  acquaint- 
ances, and  some  his  intimate  friends,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  he  too  turned  poet.  But  he  did  not  adopt  their 
literary  manners,  did  not  even  try  to  imitate  his  much- 
admired  Crabbe — harking  back  rather  to  the  melodious 
Elizabethans  and  the  linked  sweetnesses  of  the  Caroline 

'  This  tree  is  still  standing.  The  lower  leaves,  as  the  poem  states,  have 
prickles,  the  higher  leaves  are  smooth.  One  passes  it  going  from  Little  Bealings 
station  to  Playford  by  the  footpath — 

'  Below,  a  circling  fence,  its  leaves  are  seen 

Wrinkled  and  keen ; 
No  grazing  cattle  through  their  prickly  round 

Can  reach  to  wound  ; 
But  as  they  grow  where  nothing  is  to  fear, 
Smooth  and  unarmed  the  pointless  leaves  appear.' 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  95 

lyrists.  Now  came  more  sketches  from  Thackeray,  and 
among  them  a  portrait  of  FitzGerald  in  that  wonderful 
blue  frock-coat  or  surtout  which  fluttered  all  hearts  at 
Naseby.  Thackeray  also  represented  his  friend  in  a 
Weimar  court  dress,  and  '  In  after  life.'  In  the  latter 
picture  E.  F.  G.  is  made  to  assume  John  Bull  proportions 
and  is  surrounded  by  a  demonstrative  family.^ 

In   May   183 1   Thackeray  suggested  that  he  and  Fitz- 
Gerald should   go  to   Spain   or  Germany  together,   and 
sent    some    sketches    representing    the    pair   ^^  ^mes 
combating    brigands.     One   of  the   sketches   o"  wui 

I'li^clccrs.Vt 

shows  '  Captain  FitzGerald '  in  the  act  of 
running  a  terrific  Spaniard  through  the  body,  whilst 
Thackeray  is  slashing  at  two  others.  In  October  Fitz- 
Gerald sends  his  friend  the  spirited  lines  called  '  Will 
Thackeray.'-  They  commence  with  the  declaration, 
written  at  a  moment  when  his  heart  was  warm  with  a 
glass  of  port,  that  till  he  and  Willy  met,  life  was  not  life  at 
all.  The  thought  of  Willy  gives  the  wine  new  flavour, 
makes  the  fire  burn  clearer — 

'  The  chair  that  Will  sat  in  I  sit  in  the  best, 
The  tobacco  is  sweetest  which  Willy  hath  blest.' 

Though  the  wind  blows  cold,  he  can  laugh  at  the  storm 
and  think  of  his  Willy.  Even  old  age  will  make  no 
difference  to  their  friendship — 

'  Let  him  make  me  grey,  gouty,  blind,  toothless,  or  silly, 
Still  old  Ned  shall  be  Ned,  and  old  Willy  be  Willy.' 

But  while  thus  exercising  his  poetical  gifts,  FitzGerald 
continued  to  delight  himself  also  with  painting  and  music. 
He  makes  friends  with  Perry  Nursey  of  Little  Bealings, 
who,   with    his   son    Claude    Lorraine  and    his   daughter 

1  See  Biographical  Edition  of  Thackeray,  vol.  ix.,  'Christmas  Books,'  p.  xxiii. 

2  Hid.  p.  XX. 


96  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Marietta,  lived  in  the  house  which  is  now  (1902)  the 
residence   of  Archdeacon    Lawrence.       Perry    Nursey   is 

remembered  on  three  accounts — as  an  artist, 
Nursey  and  ^^  an  accompHshed  violinist,  and  as  having 
Newton  introduced    into    Suffolk    that    glorious    tree, 

the  black  Italian  poplar,  or  as  Woodbridge 
folk  affectionately  style  it,  the  Nursey  poplar.  He  made 
for  FitzGerald  among  other  things,  '  a  very  pretty  oil 
sketch '  of  Bredfield  House,  and  '  a  small  picture  of  a 
breaking  wave.'^  Another  friend  was  Robert  Newton 
Shawe  of  Kesgrave  Hall,  a  military  man,  and  chairman 
of  the  bench  of  magistrates  at  Woodbridge. 

FitzGerald's   brother  John,   who   now   leaned   towards 
Nonconformity,  and  occupied  himself  much  in  evangel- 
Matthews    ^^^^^   work,    preaching    in    schoolrooms    and 
and  his  chapels,   was   often  at  Naseby — generally  at 

^^  ■  Naseby  Woolleys — and  with  him  frequently 

was  the  Rev.  Timothy  Richard  Matthews,  of  whom 
Edward  speaks  so  much.  Matthews  was  born  at  Long 
Sutton,  Isle  of  Ely,  in  1795,  and  entered  at  Sidney 
Sussex  College,  Cambridge,  in  1815.  After  taking  his 
degree  he  was  appointed  to  the  curacies  of  Colmworth 
and  Bolnhurst,  in  Bedfordshire,  where  his  earnestness 
as  a  preacher  caused  a  furore  and  drew  immense  congre- 
gations, gathered  from  all  the  surrounding  country.  He 
was  a  man  of  splendid  physique,  and  the  possessor  of  a 
stentorian  voice.  In  1830  he  was  appointed  chaplain  to 
the  House  of  Industry  at  Bedford,  and  here  again — out- 
siders being  permitted  to  attend — he  attracted  crow^ds. 
The  chapel  connected  with  the  House  of  Industry  was 
subsequently   closed,    but    Matthews'    congregation,    un- 

^  The  Nurseys,  and  among  them  'Claude  Lorraine,'  Perry's  son,  lie  in  Little 
Bealings  churchyard,  which  is  about  three  miles  from  Woodbridge.  Miss 
Marietta  Nursey  died  in  1891,  being  then  in  her  ninety-first  year. 


RKV.  T.   R.   MATTHKWS  OF  BEDFORD 

■  Ft  IZCKKAI.U'S    I'KKACHKK'    (boKN    1 795.        DIED    1845) 


PLATE  Xn. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  gg 

willing  to  lose  their  pastor,  made  strenuous  exertions, 
and,  'sowing-  carnal  things  to  reap  divine,'  erected  for 
him,  rn  less  than  six  months,  a  spacious  chapel  in  the 
Bromham  Road,  with  rooms  underneath  for  a  residence, 
two  of  the  round-headed  windows  of  which  can  be  seen 
in  our  illustration.  In  this  underworld  Matthews  and  his 
family  lived,  and  in  the  chapel  he  henceforth  officiated, 
using,  with  trifling  alteration,  the  service  of  the  Church 
of  England.  He  was  occasionally  assisted  by  John  Fitz- 
Gerald.  In  the  week  Matthews  preached  in  his  black 
gown  and  bands  in  the  open  places  of  Bedford  or  else- 
where, first  blowing  a  trumpet  to  attract  hearers.  He 
visited  at  different  times  many  towns  and  a  vast  number 
of  villages  in  the  Midlands.  To  the  zealous  companies 
he  had  gathered  together  it  was  his  custom  to  write 
pastoral  letters,  which  were  read  aloud  by  one  of  their 
members,  and  some  of  these  letters  have  been  preserved. 
In  a  large  town  he  usually  hired  the  town  hall,  and 
preached  to  immense  congregations.  Opposition  he  had, 
as  do  all  men  who  are  in  earnest.  'The  quality,'  whose 
polite  ears  objected  to  such  words  as  'judgment  and  hell,' 
'  except  when  quoting  Milton  ' — a  society  phrase  snapped 
up  by  FitzGerald — would  have  none  of  him  ;  rubicund 
farmers,  who  could  see  no  harm  in  a  '  merry  mill '  ;  fox- 
hunting clergymen,  and  even  Charles  Dickens,  with  his 
'Sunday  under  Three  Heads'^  (1836),  all  had  their 
hostile  say,  and  employed  against  him  their  various  arts. 
His  manner  was  most  impressive.  To  use  the  words  of 
Edward  FitzGerald,  who  became  acquainted  with  him  a 
little  later :  '  He  believed  in  Christ,  and  had  no  mis- 
givings whatever.'  Matthews,  as  we  have  pointed  out, 
often  visited  John  FitzGerald  at  Naseby  Woolleys,  and, 

'  A  considerable  porlion  of  this  diatribe  was,  I  believe,  directed  specially 
against  Matthews. 


lOO  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

arrayed  in  black  gowns,  both  of  them  preached  in  the 
space  between  Naseby  churchyard  and  the  FitzGerald 
Arms.  Lest  in  his  earnestness  he  should  forget  himself 
and  preach  too  long — a  frequent  failing — Matthews  would 
say  to  Mr.  FitzGerald  before  commencing,  '  My  friend, 
when  I've  preached  long  enough,  kindly  pull  my  gown.' 
These  sermons,  especially  one  about  'Three  Sticks,'  are 
still  spoken  of  with  enthusiasm  by  old  folks  in  the  village. 
After  sermon  the  preachers  would  mingle  with  the  people, 
and  say,  first  to  one  and  then  to  another,  some  word 
of  injunction  or  encouragement.  To  John  Linnet  the 
valiant,  for  example,  Matthews  once  observed,  'John,  be 
sure  you  are  in  the  first  resurrection.'  On  cottage  tables 
at  Naseby  you  may  still  see  religious  books  with  John 
FitzGerald's  handwriting  in  them — generally  '  A  token 
of  Christian  friendship  to  [So-and-so]  from  J.  F.  G.,'  with 
the  date  1832  or  1833.  A  little  to  the  west  of  Naseby  is 
a  huge  reservoir,  the  property  of  the  Grand  Union  Canal 
Company,  and  Matthews  and  John  FitzGerald  often  held 
baptism  services  there,  sometimes  immersing  eight  or 
nine  persons  in  one  day. 

In  FitzGerald's  family  there  was  little  change  ;  his  father 
was  as  enthusiastic  as  ever  in  the  hunting-field,  and  Mrs. 
24  T  b  nd  FitzGerald  still  retained  her  passion  for  the 
the  Aliens,  theatre.  We  hear  of  her  exciting  both  ad- 
miration  and  envy  in  London  drawing-rooms 
with  her  'green  velvet  gown  trimmed  with  sables.'  This 
was  the  period  of  the  beginning  of  railways,  and  presently 
Edward  FitzGerald  had  his  first  train  ride.  *  So  you  've 
seen  the  railway,'  writes  Fanny  Kemble  to  a  friend  in 
1831  ;  'I'm  so  glad  you  have  seen  that  magnificent 
invention.'  Edward  FitzGerald  spent  three  weeks  of 
October  and  November  1831  in  town  with  Thackeray,  and 
later  visited  the  west  country  in  order  to  see  Salisbury 


^ 


THE   TRUMPET    BLOW  N    KV   THE   REV.    T.    R.    MATTHEWS 

'  Fitzgerald's  tkeacher' 

now  preserved  in  a  chapel  at  ravknsden,  near  bedkoro 


PLATH  XIII. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  103 

Cathedral  and  Bemerton,  George  Herbert's  village.  In 
the  spring  of  1832  John  Allen,  who  had  just  lost  his 
father/  left  Cambridge,  and  FitzGerald  and  others  pre- 
sented him  with  an  armchair  ;  and  in  the  summer  and 
autumn  of  that  year  we  find  FitzGerald  visiting  Tenby, 
where  Mrs.  Allen  resided,  and  making  journeys  with  Allen 
to  Freestone  Hall,^  near  the  village  of  Milton.  Free- 
stone Hall  was  the  residence  of  Mr.  James  Allen  (a  cousin 
of  John  Allen).  This  family  consisted  of  a  son,  Thomas,^ 
and  three  daughters,  Fanny, ^  Anne,  and  Mary.  The 
FitzGeralds  and  the  two  Allen  families  were  most  inti- 
mate, and  Edward's  sister  Andalusia  became  engaged  to 
John  Allen's  brother,  Bird.  From  Tenby  to  Milton  is 
about  six  miles,  and  FitzGerald  afterwards  remembered 
every  inch  of  the  road — the  water-mill,  the  picturesque 
tower  of  Gumfreston  church.  Ivy  Tower,  the  main  road 
to  Narberth,  and  Carew  Mountain,  Carew  Castle,^  and 
Freestone  Hall  at  the  end.  He  carried  away  mental 
pictures  of  pretty  '  sweet-throated '  Anne  Allen,  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  with  china  rose  complexion  and  lilac 
gown,  who  gathered  flowers  from  the  garden  and  made 
nosegays  for  every  one,  placing  '  the  fairest  at  her  father's 
side,'  and  went  about  the  house  singing  ;  as  well  as  of 
Mary*"  (who   became   the   wife   of  John  Allen's   brother 

^  Rev.  David  Bird  Allen,  buried  at  Burton  in  Rhos,  1831.  Mrs.  Allen  died 
ten  years  later. 

^  One  and  three-quarter  miles  from  Carew  Church.  A  great  part  of  Free- 
stone Hall  has  since  been  demolished,  and  the  remaining  portion  has  been 
converted  into  a  farmhouse  by  its  owner — the  Hon.  Robert  Cranmer  Trollope. 

^  To  Mrs.  Thomas  Allen,  who  is  still  living,  I  am  indebted  for  most  of  this 
information. 

■*  She  became  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  William  Allen,  Rector  of  Bosheston, 
Pembroke. 

*  There  is  no  village  of  Carew.  The  village  is  called  Milton,  half  a  mile  or 
more  to  the  west  of  Carew  church.  The  few  cottages  on  the  north  side  of 
Carew  churchyard  are  called  Cheriton,  probably  a  corruption  of  Churchtciwn. 

«  She  lived  till  1884. 


104  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Charles),    poring    over    some   wholesome    book,    an    old 
turnip  of  a  watch  in  front  of  her,  in  the  tree-surrounded 
and  sombre  schoolroom  at  the  west  of  the  house.     Other 
places  that  he  visited  were  Penally,  distant  a  mile  and  a 
half,   with  its  watch-tower  and  its  cave,   declared   to  be 
that  of  Cymbeline,  and  the  romantic  cliffs  and  caverns  of 
Bosheston.     Allen  and  he  often    sauntered   together   on 
the   sands,    among   the   ruins  of  the  castle,  and  on  St. 
Katherine's  rock.    Their  talk  was  of  Shakespeare,  Milton, 
George  Herbert,  the  Greek  poets,  and  religion,  for  Fitz- 
Gerald   still    leaned  to  Agnosticism,   and  his  views  dis- 
quieted Allen,   who    in    his   gentle  way   endeavoured   to 
change   them.     FitzGerald,    though    unconvinced,    loved 
him  the  more  for  his  pains,   and  often   in  outbursts  of 
affection  called  him  *  best  of  friends,'  'dear  fellow,'  'my 
Johnny,'  'dear  good  Allen.'     To  Tenby  Thackeray  sent 
more  letters  for  his  'dear  Teddekin,'  'dear  old  Teddibus.' 
In  one  of  them  he  refers  to  a  clergyman  who  objected  to 
pictures  in  churches.     'These  fellows  in  the  shovel  hats,' 
he  says,  '  are  greater  bigots  than  the  Catholics.     When 
you  turn  parson,  dear  Teddibus,  you  won't  refuse  to  see 
merit  even  in  a  Presbyterian.' 

Staying  in  the  same  boarding-house  as  FitzGerald  was 
a  handsome,  merry-eyed,  wildish  lad  of  sixteen,  William 
25.  William  Kenworthy  Browne,  who  is  pictured  with 
Kenworthy  longish  auburn  hair,  a  pink  complexion  set 
off  with  a  touch  or  two  of  white,  the  result  of 
contact  with  the  billiard-table  cue,  a  fawn-coloured  waist- 
coat, a  bright  blue  tie,  and  a  dark  coat ;  son  of  Mr.  Joseph 
Browne  of  Cauldwell  House,^  an  alderman,  and  one  year 
Mayor  of  Bedford.  Between,  this  youth  and  FitzGerald 
commenced  a  friendship  which  was  severed  only  by 
death.     The  Tenby  visit  brightened  many  an  after  hour 

^  In  Cauldwell  Street,  Bedford. 


w  .   KKWVOKim    i;ro\v\k 


I'l.ATK  XIV. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  107 

by  its  delightful  memory.  Browne,  John  Allen,  Anne, 
Mary,  and  Fanny — youth,  beauty,  and  good-humour — 
the  scent  of  the  October  leaves,  and  the  distant  sound 
of  the  band  on  the  pleasure-vessels  making  for  Bristol, 
were  all  recollections  which  abided  with  him. 

About  this  time  FitzGerald  and  Allen  started  a  series  of 
commonplace  books,  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of 
*  Paradise,'  a  place  in  which  to  insert  choicest  26.  'Paradise- 
extracts.  Nothing  mean  was  to  sully  these  making.' 
pages.  FitzGerald  puts  into  his  Carew's  lines,  '  Ask  me 
no  more  where  June  bestows,'  and  many  of  Shakespeare's 
sonnets,  'giving  each  a  fair  white  sheet'  to  itself.  One 
of  these  'Paradises'  has  been  described  by  Miss  Batch 
in  The  Bookman  :  ^  'It  is  a  long,  thin  book  with  a 
marbled  cover,  worn  leather  back,  and  time-stained  pages.' 
The  watermark  in  the  paper  is  1 83 1 ,  the  last  entry  bears  date 
26th  April  1840.  FitzGerald  evidently  carried  it  about  with 
him,  for  entries  were  made  in  different  places — London, 
Boulge,  Geldestone,  and  Halverstown  (Ireland).  It  con- 
tains, among  other  matter,  cuUings  from  Crabbe's  Life  of 
the  Rev.  George  Crabbe,  Lockhart's  Scott,  Bryant's  Mytho- 
logy, and  Wilkinson's  Egyptians,  character  sketches  of 
Wolsey  and  others,  and  Hayward's  translation  of  Mar- 
garet's song  in  Faust ;  while  there  is  a  long  catalogue  of 
collections  of  poetry,  showing  his  predilection  for  antique 
authors,  with  examples  from  England's  Helicon,  Qhnrch- 
ysivd's  Jane  Shore,  which  is  pronounced  'very  fine,'  and 
Michael  Drayton's  friend  William  Browne.  Fiction  is 
represented  by  two  passages  only,  one  from  Joseph 
Andrews,  where  Adams  'strongly  asserted  that  there  was 
no  such  thing  as  pleasure  in  the  world,  at  which  Pamela 
and  her  husband  smiled  on  one  another'  ;  and  one  from 

'  The   book   was  given  to    Miss  Batch  by  Mr.  John  Loder,  booksellerj  of 
Woodbridge. 


io8  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Plumer  Ward's  Tremaine  (1825).  As  his  Letters  and  the 
Omar  reveal,  FitzGerald  had  a  '  haunting  sense  of  Time's 
continual  speed,  of  the  slipping  from  our  grasp  of  day 
after  day,  of  the  shortness  and  insecurity  of  life '  ;  and  in 
the  '  Paradise '  there  are  several  pages  of  this  tincture 
gleaned  chiefly  from  his  favourite  Owen  Feltham,^  who 
had  the  additional  virtue  of  being  a  Suffolk  man. 
Feltham's  essay  on  Poverty  is  called  'very  fine,'  and  the 
remark,  '  He  is  twice  an  asse  that  is  a  riming  one,'  'very 
acute.'  Several  passages  deal  with  religion,  and  one  by 
Rowland  Hill  on  Prayer  is  held  to  breathe  'a  spirit  of 
sweet  and  childlike  trust  in  a  Heavenly  Father.' 

In  1831  FitzGerald  visited  Lowestoft  —  the  town  of 
herrings  and  saffron-buns — which,  to  use  the  words  of  an 
27.  At  Lowe-  old  chronicler,  '  hangs,  as  it  were,  over  the 
stoft,  1831.  ggg^ ' — ^  town  with  which  he  was  destined  to 
become  closely  connected.  Lowestoft  boasts  association 
with  two  other  distinguished  writers,  the  Elizabethan 
poet  and  satirist  '  sweet  Tom  Nash  '  and  George  Borrow. 
Nash,  who,  among  other  things,  sang  the  good  red  her- 
ring, wrote  a  spirited  tale.  The  Unfortunate  Traveller,  and 
two  breezy  plays,  not  to  mention  a  host  of  miscellaneous 
works.  George  Borrow,  the  third  of  Lowestoft's  dii 
majores,  did  not  settle  in  the  neighbourhood  until  several 
years  after  FitzGerald's  first  visit ;  but  he  had  already 
gone  through  his  experiences  with  his  Brynhildic  queen, 
the  gigantic  Isopel  Berners,  as  related  in  Lavengro,  and 
was  now  a  bookseller's  hack  in  London. 

FitzGerald  loved  to  stroll  among  the  marrams  or  coarse 
sea  grasses  of  the  Denes  or  on  the  North  Beach,  with  the 
red-roofed,  picturesque  old  town,  pierced  with  narrow 
'scores'  or  lanes,  rising  high  behind,  and  the  glorious 

^   Author  of  Resolves:  Divine,  Moral,  and  Political.     2nd  ed.  162S  ;  12th  ed. 
1709.     Reprinted  in  1806  by  James  Gumming. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  109 

sea  in  front.  To  him  the  sea  was  always  glorious, 
whether  by  day,  when  he  could  watch  the  stately  parting 
fishing-boats  with  their  red  or  bistre  sails  ;  or  by  night, 
beautiful  with  the  silveriness  of  the  '  moonway '  ;  and  he 
liked  to  think  of  the  old  sea-fights,  when  the  cannon  of 
Opdam,  De  Ruyter,  and  York  boomed  in  Sole  Bay,^  and 
Dorset  wrote  his  dainty  song,  'To  all  you  Ladies.'  He 
noticed  that  very  many  of  the  herring  luggers  which  then 
lay  on  the  beach  bore  testimony  to  the  influence  on  the 
place  of  John  Wesley,  who  had  last  visited  Lowestoft  in 
1790 — the  occasion  probably  when  Crabbe,  the  poet, 
heard  him  apply  to  himself  the  lines  from  Anacreon — 

'  Oft  by  the  women  I  am  told, 
Poor  Anacreon,  thou  grow'st  old.' 

In  1 83 1  Lowestoft  had  just  begun  to  obtain  a  reputation 
as  a  seaside  resort.  The  daffodil  and  the  violet  grew  wild 
in  the  wooded  pleasaunce  in  front  of  the  old  Suffolk  Inn. 
There  was  not  a  single  house  between  the  bridge  and 
Kirkley,  and,  to  reach  the  latter,  one  had  to  pass  over 
ditches  from  which,  at  low  water,  shrimps  used  to  be 
taken.  A  '  Blue  Coach ' — for  as  yet  there  was  no  rail — 
plied  between  the  town  and  London. ^ 

The  herring's  for  which  the  town  was  famous  were 
landed  on  the  North  Beach  (the  harbour  was  not  opened 
till  about  1840)  ;  the  luggers,  which  stood  off  at  about  a 
hundred  yards,  being  relieved  by  boats.  Mackerel  was 
sold  by  auction  on  the  spot,  and  the  herrings^  were  carried 
in  wagons  to  the  fish-houses  on  the  Waplough  Road  to 

'   1665.     Battle  between  Opdam  and  Duke  of  York. 
1772.    Battle  in  Sole  Bay  (Southwold  Bay)  between  De  Ruyter  and  Duke 
of  York. 

2  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think  the  railway  to  Norwich  was  opened  about  1845, 
that  to  Woodbridge  about  1S65. 

•^  Mackerel   season  began    13th  May,  and  lasted  ten  weeks.     The  herring 
season  occupies  the  months  of  October  and  November. 


no  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

be  cured.  When  the  season  was  over  the  luggers  were 
hauled  on  to  the  beach  by  horses,  and  shored  up.  In  all 
the  life  of  the  beach  and  the  fishery  FitzGerald  took  a 
continual  interest. 

He  was  fond  of  walking  to  Kirkley,  with  its  ruined 
church,^  and  so  on  by  the  cliff — since  so  ruthlessly 
damaged  by  the  sea — to  Pakefield.  He  fraternised  much 
with  the  sailors,  and  particularly  with  a  Pakefield  man, 
'Lew'  Colby,  and  his  son  William,  'Dickymilk,'  who 
was  to  become  owner  of  the  Au  Revoir,  called  by  the 
beachmen  'Horrywaur,'  and  to  finish  life  on  'stilts.'^ 
With  '  Dickymilk,'  whom  he  calls  in  his  Sea  Words  and 
Phrases  '  a  good  fellow,'  FitzGerald  sometimes  walked  on 
a  Sunday  to  Pakefield  church,  an  edifice  that  pleased  him 
because  of  its  '  delightful  mouse-coloured  thatch '  roof. 
Colby  would  go  in,  and  FitzGerald  would  remain  outside 
in  the  porch — his  attitude  towards  professed  religion 
during  almost  the  whole  of  his  life.  The  preacher  at 
Pakefield  was  the  Rev.  John  Rumph,  who,  we  are  told, 
was  accustomed,  when  the  lifeboat  was  wanted,  to  close 
his  book  immediately,  and  go  off  with  his  flock  to  render 
help.  Another  of  FitzGerald's  beach  acquaintances  was 
one  Harry  Norman,  *  Old  Brawtoe,'  who  got  his  living 
and  his  nickname  by  picking  up  and  selling  odds  and 
ends  of  rope.  FitzGerald  explored  all  the  neighbouring 
villages — Hopton,  with  its  laig  or  chasm  in  the  cliff; 
Corton,  dear  to  sailors  homeward  bound  for  Lowes- 
toft;  and  Covehithe  with  'The  Blue  Anchor,' known  to 

'  Now  restored. 

-  The  passage  in  Sea  Words  and  Phrases  refers  to  events  that  occurred,  not  in 
1 83 1,  but  between  1831  and  1840.  '  Dickymilk  '  was  only  fifteen  in  1S31,  and  did 
not  become  owner  of  the  Au  Revoir  uWahoVii  1840.  FitzGerald  is  only  speaking 
approximately.  When  I  met  '  Dickymilk  '  in  the  spring  and  autumn  of  1902  he 
was  eighty-six  years  of  age,  lived  in  Surrey  Street,  and  went  about  on  crutches, 
which,  Suffolk  fashion,  he  called  '  stilts.' 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  iii 

amphibians,  no  doubt  after  some  old  sign,  as  'The  Naked 
ManofCothy.' 

The  year  183 1  saw  the  country  agitated  over  the  much- 
debated    question    of    Parliamentary    Reform.       George 

Crabbe,  the  poet — FitzGerald's  '  great  gun  ' —         _ 

'  ^  ^  ^  28.  Death  of 

waiting  for  death,  was  not  at  all  sure  that  the   the  poet 
proposed    change    would    be    advantageous,    ^^^^jg^l^^ 
He  felt  the  degradation  when  he  saw  at  Trow- 
bridge Fair  '  four  hundred  and  eighty-five  human  beings ' 
(Cuyp-like  exactness  in  letter  as  well  as  in  poem)  'with 
painted  faces  and  crazy  dresses  and  gestures,  trying  to 
engage  and  entice  the  idle  spectators  to  enter  their  poor 
show-houses.'      Crabbe   died  3rd    February  of  the   next 
year,  1832,  when  FitzGerald  was  just  twenty-three.     The 
Reform  Bill  became  law  in  the  following  June. 

The  poem,  'To  a  Lady  Singing,'  was  written,  ap- 
parently, after  FitzGerald's  return  from  Tenby.  One 
feels  that  Clora  was  Anne  Allen.  If  so,  the  29.  Canst  thou, 
prophecy  had  the  sad  misfortune  to  be  fulfilled  ^^  ^'°''^' 
all  too  speedily — too  soon  she  followed  her  sweet  song. 
The  poet  asks — 

'  Canst  thou,  my  Clora,  declare 
After  thy  sweet  song  dieth 
Into  the  wild  summer  air, 
Whither  it  falleth  or  flieth  ? ' 

and  answers  his  own  question — 

'  Melody,  dying  away 

Into  the  dark  sky  closes, 
Like  the  good  soul  from  her  clay, 

Like  the  fair  odour  of  roses. 
Therefore  thou  now  art  behind  it, 
But  thou  shalt  follow  and  find  it.' 

Subsequently   (December  1832)   FitzGerald  added  two 
more  stanzas  which,  however,  are  less  beautiful.     In  this 


112  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

poem,  like  'The  Meadows  in  Spring,'  can  be  discerned 
the  influence  of  the  old  lyrists  Carew  and  Vaughan  ;  but 
not  only  did  these  poets  and  the  earlier  and  equally 
sweet  Elizabethans  influence  his  verse,  they  coloured  his 
whole  existence.  Indeed,  Sir  Henry  Wotton's  poem, 
'  The  Character  of  a  Happy  Life,'  which  was  one  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's  great  favourites,  reads  so  like  FitzGerald's  own 
life  that  one  is  tempted  to  assume,  though  there  is 
certainly  the  trifling  difficulty  of  dates,  that  Wotton  had 
FitzGerald  in  mind — 

'  How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught 
That  serveth  not  another's  will ; 
Whose  armour  is  his  honest  thought, 
And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill.' 

'  It  is  very  beautiful,'  comments  FitzGerald,  'and  fit  for  a 
Paradise  of  any  kind.' 

While  on  a  visit  to  Cambridge  this  year,  FitzGerald 
met  his  friend  J.  M.  Kemble,  who  had  commenced  in 
earnest  the  Anglo-Saxon  studies  which  were  to  make  him 
famous  ;  and  perpetrated  '  a  wretched  sketch  of  Kemble 
reading  something,  with  a  glass  of  ale  on  the  table.' 

The  year  1832  saw  the  publication  of  Tennyson's 
second  volume  of  poems.  Says  FitzGerald  of  The  Lady 
of  Shalott : — '  Well  I  remember  this  poem  read  to  me 
before  I  knew  the  author  at  Cambridge  one  night  in  1832 
or  '33,  and  its  images  passing  across  my  mind,  as  across 
the  magic  mirror,  while  half  asleep  in  the  mail-coach  to 
London  in  the  creeping  dawn  that  followed.'^ 

In  November  we  find  him  in  London  frequenting  book- 
shops, and  buying  Bacon's  Essays,  Evelyn's  Sylva,  and 
Browne's  Religio.  He  had  plenty  of  time  at  his  disposal, 
always  wrote  more  letters  than  he  received,  and  confessed 

'  Quoted  in  the  Life  of  Lord  Tennyson. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  113 

to  a  '  very  young  lady-like  partiality  '  for  writing  to  those 
he  loved.  In  the  letters  of  this  period  he  tells  of  his  books 
and  his  thoughts,  and  returns  again  and  again  to  the 
subject  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets.  '  I  had,'  says  he, 
'but  half  an  idea  of  him,  demi-god  as  he  seemed  before, 
till  I  read  them  carefully.'^  We  gather,  too,  that  he 
applied  himself  to  Wordsworth,  though  without  enthu- 
siasm, but  heartily  admired  Bacon's  Essay  on  Friendship. 

With  his  old  schoolfellow,  W.  B.  Donne,  who  lived  at 
Mattishall,  in  Norfolk,  FitzGerald  often  corresponded. 
It  is  'Our  Donne,'  'My  Dear  Donne,  who  ^  g 
shares  with  Spedding  my  oldest  and  deepest  Donne.  Castle 
love.'  In  later  years.  Dr.  Thompson,  Master 
of  Trinity,  said  of  Donne  :  '  He  is  one  of  the  finest  gentle- 
men I  know,  and  no  ordinary  scholar — remarkable  also 
for  his  fidelity  to  his  friends.'  Cheerfulness  and  meek- 
ness were  his  salient  characteristics,  and  of  the  former  he 
had  much  need,  for  the  world  often  treated  him  with  more 
than  customary  harshness,  though  he  never  complained. 
'  When,'  asks  FitzGerald,  'does  he  complain?' 

In  February  1833  FitzGerald  went  to  stay  at  Castle 
Irwell,  his  father's  Manchester  seat — an  old-fashioned,  but 
not  ancient,  house,  built  on  a  natural  mound  of  red 
sandstone,  w^hich  crops  out  of  the  flat  land  of  the  Irwell 
valley,  just  opposite  the  cliff  at  Higher  Broughton  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Irwell.  The  rooms  were  small  ;  there 
was  a  private  chapel  in  the  house,  and  tradition  spoke  of 
a  secret  passage  leading  under  the  river  to  Broughton. 
In  the  meadows  to  the  north  of  the  house  races  were  held, 
the  nearest  way  to  the  course  being  over  a  private  suspen- 
sion-bridge of  the  FitzGeralds,  which  w^as  open  to 
passengers  on  payment  of  a  halfpenny.  Westward  lay 
the  fatal  colliery  ground  of  Pendleton.     At  Castle  Irwell 

^  Letiersy  vol.  i.  p.  14  (Macmillan). 


114  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

FitzGerald    chiefly   spent   his    time    in    a   re-reading   of 
Bacon's  Essays. 

In  September  he  is  in  lodgings  in  London — 17  South- 
ampton Row — so  as  to  be  near  the  British  Museum  ; 
sees  Spedding,  Thackeray — who  used  to  come  singing  into 
his  rooms — Pierce  Morton,  an  Irish  gentleman  of  estate 
and  fortune,  which,  of  course,  went  the  Irish  way;  and 
Tennyson.  These  were  '  our  younger  London  days,' 
in  which — long  after,  addressing  FitzGerald — Tennyson 

says — 

'You  found  some  merit  in  my  rhymes, 
And  I  more  pleasure  in  your  praise.' 

The  meetings  of  these  friends — and  Browne  often  joined 
them — were  usually  at  '  The  Cock' in  Fleet  Street,  that 
31.  Word  famous  hostelry  whose  '  plump  head-waiter  ' 

Portraits.  has  been  so  often  talked  about ;  but  apparently 

nothing  of  the  conversation  has  been  preserved  except  a 
few  feeble  witticisms.  A  friend  of  FitzGerald's  tells  me 
that  on  one  occasion  upon  leaving  '  The  Cock,'  a  little 
merry  after  the  chop  for  which  that  house  was  celebrated, 
they  all  squeezed  into  an  omnibus.  Another  passenger 
having  come  up,  the  conductor  put  in  his  head  and 
asked,  'Are  you  full  inside?'  'Yes,'  cried  Tennyson, 
'the  last  glass  did  for  me.'  On  another  occasion 
FitzGerald  referred  to  the  fact  of  his  sister  Jane  having 
married  'a  Mr.  Wilkinson,  a  clergyman.'^  'Why,'  said 
Tennyson,  'that's  verse,'  and  then  they  contended 
humorously  for  the  authorship  '  of  the  worst  line  in  the 
English  language.' 

It  was  about  this  time  that  FitzGerald  wrote  a  number 
of  word  pictures  of  his  friends.  In  the  course  of  my 
researches  among  the  papers  to  which  I  was  given  access 
by  the    Rev.    E.    Kenworthy    Browne,   I    had   the   good 

1  An  elderly  man.     She  made  him  '  very  evangelical — and  tiresome — and  so 
they  fed  their  flock  '  at  Holbrook,  near  Ipswich. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  115 

fortune  to  come  across  a  manuscript  containing  a  number 
of  these  sketches,  and  I  here  reproduce  two  of  the  most 
important,  namely  those  on  Tennyson  and  Thackeray. 

Of  Thackeray  FitzGerald  says  :  *  A  great  deal  of  talent, 
but  no  perseverance  or  steadiness  of  purpose  ;  very  in- 
different, almost  cold  in  his  feelings  ;  a  very  despairing 
mind  ;  quick  in  most  things  ;  impatient  ;  exclusive  in  his 
attachments  ;  very  unaffected,  and  has  great  want  of 
confidence  in  his  own  powers.' 

Of  Tennyson  we  get  the  following  :  '  Very  w^ell  in- 
formed ;  just  and  upright ;  a  rectifier  or  setter  to  rights  of 
people ;  diligent,  constant,  sincere  ;  has  great  discern- 
ment ;  industrious,  decided,  and  possesses  great  strength 
of  mind  ;  a  very  valuable  friend  ;  generous,  but  not 
extravagant ;  punctual  ;  cool  and  clear  in  judgment.' 

It  was  in  London  that  FitzGerald  read  that  puzzling 
but  original  genius  William  Blake,  and  several  of  the 
letters  contain  references  to  him.  He  expresses  himself 
gratified,  too,  on  hearing  fresh  tidings  of  the  discoveries 
in  Anglo-Saxon  MSS.  at  Cambridge  made  by  Kemble, 
who  was  indeed  madly  devoted  to  '  his  Mistress  Learn- 
ing.' '  I  wish,'  sighed  Charles  Kemble  (his  father),  *  John 
had  taken  up  something  more  lucrative.'  His  sister 
Fanny  too  was  troubled.  '  Poor  John  '  indeed  had  a 
fatality  for  following  unremunerative  courses.  First 
Torrijos,  and  now  this  Anglo-Saxon  enthusiasm  !  Yet 
he  was  the  one  man  in  England  with  a  head  for  the  work, 
which,  besides,  really  wanted  doing. 

FitzGerald    now    begins   to    interest   himself   in    vege- 
tarianism.    He  reads  every  available  book  on    the  sub- 
ject, especially  Cheyne^  on  Health  and  Long  32.  Vegetarian- 
Life,  and  Cheyne's  essay  on  Regimen,  with  '^'°'  °*^*'  ^^^^' 
extracts  from  which  he  crowds  his  notebooks  and  letters  ; 

*  George  Cheyne  {1670- 1742),  Essay  on  Health  and  Long  Life,  1724. 
VOL.  I.  E 


ii6         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

he  inquires  about  'Dr.  Lambe's  book,'^  goes  to  hear  a 
lecture  on  the  subject,  and  can  talk  of  nothing  else.  He 
would  himself  live  on  '  seeds,  bread,  milk,  mealy  roots 
and  fruit,'  being  persuaded  that  such  a  course  leads 
to  health  and  longevity.  He  makes  lists  of  persons  who 
have  attained  to  great  age, — St.  Jerome  to  109  ;  Simeon 
Stylites  109  ;  and  other  Eastern  Christians  who  are  re- 
puted to  have  eaten  only  '  twelve  ounces  in  the  twenty- 
four  hours,  with  water  for  drink.'  Then  he  tabulates 
abstemious  moderns, — '  One  Lawrence,  who  lived  to  140 
by  extreme  temperance '  ;  Thomas  Jenkins  to  169,  and 
Old  Parr  to  152.  Though  Cheyne,  who  had  been  'fat, 
lethargic,  and  listless,'  restored  himself  to  health  and 
comfort,  and  reduced  the  diameter  of  his  waistcoat  by 
a  vegetable  diet,  which  he  consequently  recommends, 
he  would  nevertheless  allow  animal  food  to  certain  persons 
on  alternate  days.  In  short,  he  contradicts  himself — here 
advocating  a  vegetable  diet,  there  an  animal.  FitzGerald, 
who  exposes  Cheyne's  inconsistencies,  is  resolved  to  give 
vegetarianism  'a  year's  trial.'  How  long  he  persevered 
is  not  stated,  but  for  many  weeks  h^  ate  meat  only  once 
at  a  party  where  he  'did  not  like  to  be  singled  out.' 
Life  through,  though  never  a  strict  vegetarian,  his  diet 
was  mainly  bread  and  fruit. 

During    1833   he  spent  much  time  whetting   his  wits 

33  The  ^^  ^^^  British  Museum,  and  copying  extracts 

Museum  Book,  that  pleased  him  into  a  little  manuscript  book 

bound  in  maroon-coloured  leather.^     On  the 

first   page   are   the   words    '  E.    FitzGerald,    October    15, 

^  *  The  Return  to  Nature,  or  a  Defence  of  the  Vegetable  Regimen '  appeared  in 
The  PamphleUer,  No.  38.    It  was  dedicated  to  Dr.  W.  Lambe,  not  written  by  him. 

^  This  commonplace  book  was  presented  by  FitzGerald  to  W.  Kenworthy 
Browne,  and  it  is  now  in  the  possession  of  his  son,  the  Rev.  E.  Kenworthy 
Browne.  Previous  writers  on  FitzGerald  do  not  appear  to  have  been  aware 
of  its  existence,  and  its  contents  are  now  for  the  first  time  made  public.  They 
throw  most  valuable  light  on  the  trend  of  FitzGerald's  mind  at  this  period. 


NASEBY  AND  TENBY  117 

1833.  Museum  Book,  1833,'  and  a  pen  and  ink  sketch 
of  a  flask,  with  *  SACK,  1661,'  written  across  it,  and  a 
wine-glass  with  the  foot  left  in  pencil.  The  extracts 
show  FitzGerald's  insatiable  appetite  for  old  English 
writers.  There  are  passages  from  Roger  Ascham,  Blunt 
Master  Constable,  and  Sir  R.  Carey.  Richard  Corbet's 
'  Farewell  to  the  Fairies '  is  given  in  full,  and  there  is  a 
paragraph  from  Ellis's  account  of  the  execution  of  Mary- 
Queen  of  Scots,  in  which  it  is  said  that  '  her  lippes  stirred 
up  and  down  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  her  head  was  cut 
off.'  Here  is  a  quaint  song,  there  a  snatch  of  a  ballad. 
One  page  is  filled  with  Michael  Drayton's  address  '  To 
his  friend  William  Browne,'^  and  we  may  be  sure  that 
in  copying  it  FitzGerald  was  thinking  of  his  William 
Browne.  The  'Museum  Book'  also  contains  a  number 
of  carefully  executed  illustrations  (a  few  in  colours)  copied 
apparently  from  some  old  illustrated  manuscript — car- 
dinals, soldiers,  ladies,  and  other  figures  in  crimson  and 
gold,  blue  and  silver,  with  the  laced  ruffs,  ornamental  top 
boots,  and  purple  gowns  incident  to  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries — all  very  pretty  and  very  dainty. 

In  November  1830  came  sad  news  from  Freestone  Hall. 
Anne  Allen  was  dead.     Alas,  what  a  stroke  was  there  ! 
She  had   passed   away   at  the   early  age   of  ^4.  Death  of 
twenty-five.       Her    broken  -  hearted    parents   ^^°^  Alien. 
buried  her  in  Carew  churchyard,  where  may  still  be  seen 
a  stone  to  her  memory  with  the  inscription — 

Anne  Allen, 

Daughter  of  James  and  Mary  Allen. 
Born   January  12,  1808. 
Died  November  4,  1833.^ 


^  Poet,  1590-1645.     Wrote  Britannia's  Pastorals,  Shepherd's  Pipe,  etc. 

2  Her  father,  who  died  in  1855,  and  her  mother,  who  died  in  1856,  are  buried 
in  the  same  grave,  and  the  dates  of  their  births  and  deaths  are  inscribed  on  the 
memorial  stone.     The  family  graves  are  on  the  east  side  of  the  churchyard. 


ii8         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Edward  FitzGerald  deeply  mourned  her  loss,  and  pre- 
sently we  find  him  writing  that  touching  and  lovely  little 
poem  which  takes  its  title  from  her  name — 

'  The  wind  blew  keenly  from  the  western  sea 
And  drove  the  dead  leaves  slanting  from  the  tree — 

Vanity  of  vanities,  the  Preacher  saith — 
Heaping  them  up  before  her  father's  door, 
When  I  saw  her  whom  I  shall  see  no  more — 

We  cannot  bribe  thee,  Death. 

Idly  they  gaze  upon  her  empty  place, 
Her  kiss  hath  faded  from  her  father's  face  : 
She  is  with  thee,  O  Death.'  ^ 

So  touching  are  the  lines,  that  one  cannot  help  wonder- 
ing whether  FitzGerald  ever  bore  towards  the  dead  girl 
any  more  intense  feeling  than  that  of  mere  friendship. 

On  19th  November,  FitzGerald  refers  to  the  marriage  of 
his  old  schoolfellow  Arthur  Malkin  (son  of  Dr.  Malkin, 
Master  of  Bury  School),  '  a  very  clever  person,  and  very 
reserved  about  himself — firm  to  his  purpose,  resolute,  a 
great  courtier. '^  There  is  more  frequenting  of  the  British 
Museum,  much  theatre-going  with  Spedding,  and  a  good 
deal  of  time  is  spent  with  Thackeray.  Two  mornings  at 
the  house  of  Thackeray's  stepfather,  Carmichael  Smith, ^ 
are  particularly  remembered,  seeing  that  Thackeray 
occupied  them  in  enriching  FitzGerald's  copy  of  Undine 
with  sixteen  water-colour  drawings.'  Says  Mrs.  Ritchie  : 
'  At  a  time  of  great  trouble  [the  illness  of  Thackeray's 
wife],  it  was  FitzGerald's  extraordinary  goodness  that 
brought  help  through  the  saddest  days  of  Thackeray's 
life.  FitzGerald  gave  him  orders  for  drawings  which 
brought  money  into  the  empty  purse,  and  "shared  his 
troubles  with  a  liberal  heart."  '^ 

^  For  complete  poem  see  Miscellmiies  (Macmillan),  p.  205. 
-  FitzGerald's  Word  Portraits,  Rev.  E.  K.  Browne's  MS. 
2  Albion  Street,  Hyde  Park. 
*  The  Biographical  Edition  of  Thackeray's  Works. 


CHAPTER    IV 

HARP   AND    LUTE 

MAY  1834— JULY  1835 

Bibliography 

5.  '  The  Old  Beau  '  in  r,5£  Af^/jfl/^^,        ....      1834 

6.  'The  Merchant's  Daughter,'  /(^.,  ....       1834 

FitzGerald  owes  his  immortality  in  a  great  measure 
to  his  keen  passion  for  retaining  only  the  concentrated 
essence  of  things.  In  his  writings  he  en-  3^  Genius  for 
deavoured  always  to  keep  before  himself  the  concentrating, 
example  of  Gray's  Elegy.  He  was  always  saying, 
'Abridge,  concentrate,  distil.'  Scissors  and  paste  were 
his  harp  and  lute.  The  passion  exhibits  itself  in  every- 
thing he  does.  He  must  have  a  '  Paradise '  into  which 
can  be  admitted  only  the  finer  part  of  literature.  He  reads 
the  Spectator,  and  would  like  *  to  publish  all  the  papers 
about  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  alone.'  He  has  a  parrot's 
skill  in  extracting  kernels  and  scattering  the  shells. 
Favourite  authors  he  would  himself  abbreviate  with 
scissors  and  paste.  By  and  by  we  shall  find  him  so 
employed  with  Richardson's  Clarissa,  Crabbe's  Tales  of 
the  Hall,  and  a  host  of  inferior  books.  Wesley's 
Journal,  always  a  favourite  with  him,  required,  he 
thought,  the  same  treatment ;  and  as  late  as  1877  he  was 
suggesting  to  Fanny  Kemble  that  she  should  condense 
her    'Gossip,'    which     had    appeared    in    the    Atlantic 

119 


I20         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Magazine.  This  feature  in  his  character  was  of  para- 
mount service  to  him  when,  in  middle  life,  he  approached 
Omar  Khayyam.  Much  as  he  admired  Omar — who  for 
brevity  was  an  absolute  Gray  among  Persian  poets, 
most  of  whom  wrote  tens  of  thousands  of  lines — his 
perfect  taste  suggested  that  the  essence  would  be  far 
more  delectable  then  the  whole.  Hence  that  poem  of 
only  a  hundred  and  one  quatrains.  To  this  habit  of 
fastidious  selection  and  pitiless  condensation,  and  to  his 
custom  of  tearing  out  of  books  leaves  which  he  considered 
valueless,  and  welding  a  dozen  thus  attenuated  volumes 
into  one,  we  shall  have  again  to  refer. 

In  the  summer  of  1834  FitzGerald  paid  a  visit  to  the 

home  of  W.  Kenworthy  Browne  at  Bedford,  and  he  visited 

Bedford  nearly  every  summer  up  to  the  time 

House" Be?-      o^  Browne's  death.    The  Brownes,  as  we  have 

ford.    Frank     g^id,   resided  at  Cauldwell   House  in  Cauld- 

^^^°  '  well  Street,  on  the  left  as  you  proceed  from 
St.  Mary's  Street,  and  just  opposite  the  residence  of 
Mr.  Browne's  friend,  the  late  nonagenarian,  Mr.  George 
Hurst.  A  narrow  channel  called,  after  King  Offa,  the 
King's  Brook,  which  takes  its  course  from  the  Ouse,  and 
borders  what  was  formerly  Mr.  Hurst's  garden,  crosses 
under  the  road,  runs  down  the  east  side  of  the  garden 
of  Cauldwell  House,  and  joins  the  Ouse  again  at  a  spot 
called  Duck  Mill.  The  house  has  been  altered  since 
Browne's  time,  but  recently,  when  I  visited  it,  the  room 
on  the  left  of  the  entrance-hall  had  seen  little  change  ; 
and  the  walls  were  coloured,  not  inappropriately,  a  rich 
brown,  ornamented  with  gilding.  Here  the  friends  spent 
many  a  happy  hour  together  talking,  reading,  and  smok- 
ing, while  Browne's  top  boots,  polished  like  a  mirror, 
stood  on  a  chair,  with  his  scarlet  coat  hung  over  the  back 
— all  ready  against  the  hunting-season.     Browne's  smart, 


HARP  AND  LUTE  123 

handsome,  dapper  little  figure  made  a  striking  contrast 
to  the  larger,  shambling,  carelessly  dressed  form  of  Fitz- 
Gerald.  A  large  room  in  the  rear  opened  into  a  con- 
servatory, which  again  led  into  a  garden  adjoined  by  a 
close  which  then  extended  to  Pilcroft  Street.  'This 
house,'  says  FitzGerald,  'is  just  on  the  edge  of  the 
town  :  a  garden  on  one  side  skirted  by  the  public  road, 
which  again  is  skirted  by  a  row  of  such  poplars  as  only 
Ouse  knows  how  to  rear — and  pleasantly  they  rustle 
now — and  the  room  in  which  I  write  is  quite  cool  and 
opens  into  a  greenhouse  which  opens  into  said  garden  : 
and  it 's  all  deuced  pleasant.'  ^  Browne  was  then  eighteen 
years  of  age,  'full  of  confidence,  generosity,  and  the 
glorious  spirit  of  youth.'  The  friends  spent  much  of 
their  time  riding  and  fishing,  and  FitzGerald  found  him- 
self very  '  much  in  love  with  Bedfordshire.' 

Now  and  again  he  heard  from  Allen,  who  was  married 
and  settled  in  London,  and  in  one  of  his  replies  he  tells 
how  very  welcome  these  letters  were,  and  adds,  '  I  am  an 
idle  fellow,  of  a  very  lady-like  turn  of  sentiment,  and 
my  friendships  are  more  like  loves,  I  think.' 2  He  is 
often  at  his  mother's  (he  never  calls  it  his  father's),  17 
Gloucester  Street,  Queen  Square ;  he  smokes  a  pipe 
with  Frederick  Tennyson  and  the  impecunious  Morton  in 
Mornington  Crescent  ;  and  meets  at  the  British  Museum 
his  old  Cambridge  friend  Frank  B.  Edgeworth,  youngest 
son  of  Richard  Lovell  Edgeworth.  The  genealogical 
table  of  the  Edgeworths  is  as  puzzling  as  that  of  the 
man  we  have  all  met  'going  to  St.  Ives.'  Richard  L. 
Edgeworth,  it  is  true,  had  only  four  wives,  but  these 
four  had  among  them,  at  what  was  apparently  the  last 
time  of  counting,   twenty-two  children. ^     His  first  wife 

1  Letters  (Macmillan),  vol.  i.  p.  6i.  "  Ibid.  (Macmillan)  vol.  i.  p.  30. 

'  For  list,  see  Life  and  Letters  of  Maria  Edge-worthy  vol.  i.  p.  243. 


124         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

was  the  mother  of  'the  great  Maria,'  his  fourth  the 
mother  of  Frank.  ^  The  sister  and  brother  (who  looked 
like  grandmother  and  grandson)  were  at  this  time  aged 
respectively  sixty-seven  and  twenty-five.  Frank  Edge- 
worth,  who  married  a  Spanish  lady,  Rosa  Florentina 
Eroles,  is  pictured  by  FitzGerald  as  'a  very  intelligent 
and  agreeable  person ;  very  generous ;  .  .  .  gets  through 
a  great  deal  of  business  with  ease,  and  is  quiet  in  manner, 
but  very  cheerful  spirits  ;  warm-hearted  and  affectionate.' ^ 
Carlyle  describes  Edgeworth — '  Poor  little  Frank' — as 'a 
short,  neat  man  :  of  sleek,  square,  colourless  face,  with 
small  blue  eyes,  in  which  twinkled  curiously  a  joyless 
smile.'  He  had  a  croaky,  shrill  voice,  was  deeply  read 
in  Plato,  Kant,  and  other  philosophers,  and  looked  coldly 
on  all  creeds.  Edgeworth's  philosophy  paired  well  with 
Kemble's  combined  philosophy  and  Anglo-Saxonism.  It 
was  as  much  as  their  pockets  could  do  to  bear  the  strain. 

To  The  Keepsake,  an  annual  edited  by  Frederic  Mansel 
Reynolds,  FitzGerald,  in  1834,  contributed  two  poems 
37.  'The  Old  which  do  not  appear  in  any  collection  of  Fitz- 
Beau,'i834.  Gerald's  works.  One,  'The  Old  Beau,'  has 
vigour  and  humour  ;  but  the  other,  '  The  Merchant  and 
his  Daughter,'  has  neither  ;  and  both,  wonderful  for 
him,  are  signed  with  his  name  in  full.  The  first  com- 
mences— 

'  The  days  we  used  to  laugh,  Tom, 

At  tales  of  love  and  tears  of  passion  ; 
The  bowls  we  used  to  quaff,  Tom, 

In  toasting  all  the  toasts  in  fashion  ; 
The  heaths  and  hills  we  ranged,  Tom, 

When  limb  ne'er  fail'd,  when  step  ne'er  faltered  ; 
Alas  !  how  things  are  changed,  Tom, 

How  we — and  all  the  world — are  altered  ! ' 


^  Born  1809  ;  married  19th  December  1831  ;  died  1846. 

^  The  unpublished  manuscript  in  possession  of  the  Rev.  E.  Ken  worthy  Browne. 


HARP  AND  LUTE  125 

His  college  days  are  recalled,  and  his  college  friends — 

'  And  some  their  race  have  run,  Tom, 

And  some  are  ruin'd — some  are  risen, 
And  some  have  had  their  fun,  Tom, 
In  parliament  and  some — in  prison.' 

He  then  goes  on  to  lament  the  degeneracy  of  the 
present  times  compared  with  the  past.  Tradesfolk  give 
trouble  now  if  you  delay  them  a  year  or  two  ;  at  any  ball 
you  may  notice  'the  falling  off  in  face  and  figure.'  Gazing 
on  the  young  ladies  of  to-day,  we  are  obliged  to  say  with 
a  sigh,  *  You  're  nothing  to  your  mothers  ! '  He  looks 
forward,  however,  to  a  little  pleasure  from  two  visits  from 
a  couple  of  ancient  relics — '  Jekyll '  and  '  Lady  Aldboro'.' 

'  Out  on  the  greybeard  Time,  Tom, 

He  makes  the  best  turned  leg  grow  thinner; 
He  spares  not  sex  nor  clime,  Tom, 

Nor  tis — the  old  relentless  sinner  ! 
But  come  down  and  be  gay,  Tom, 

At  the  old  Hall,  and  banish  sorrow  ; 
For  Jekyll  comes  to-day,  Tom, 

And  LaJy  Aldboro'  to-morrow.' 

'The  Merchant  and  his  Daughter'  is  altogether  in- 
ferior. An  old  Jew,  surrounded  by  his  deeds  and  money- 
bags, has  a  presentiment  of  ill.  He  expresses  his 
detestation  of  the  Christians,  and  goes  out  to  work  them 
'spite,'  whereupon  his  daughter  announces  that  she 
herself  has  become  a  Christian.     She  rejoices  in  Jesus, 

who 

'  Makes  light  the  wearied  sinner's  yoke 
And  comforteth  the  weak.' 

She  looks  forward  to  the  time  when  the  stain  that  has 
defiled  God's  chosen  people  shall  be  cleansed,  and  when 

'  The  harp  of  Judah's  tribe  again 
Shall  welcome  Judah's  child.' 


126         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

The  verses  were  written  to  an  accompanying  plate, ^ 
which  represents  Shylock  handing  Jessica  the  keys, 
whilst  Launcelot  stands  in  the  background  ;  and  a 
number  of  Shakespeare's  expressions — 'wry-necked  fife,' 

*  fast  bind,  fast  find,'  'by  Jacob's  staff' — are  worked  in. 
Despite  its  poverty,  however,  '  The  Merchant  and  his 
Daughter '  is  no  worse  than  the  other  '  sweet '  things 
'  in  the  Keepsake^  by  Lord  Diddle  '  ^  and  his  fellow-con- 
tributors with  imposing  titles  and  feeble  intellects. 

In  April  1835  FitzGerald  is  visiting  Spedding — 'that 
mad  wag,'  'old  Jem  Spedding  the  Wise,'  'my  sheet 
38.  In  the  anchor,'    Thackeray's    'Jeames  Spending' — 

Lake  Country.  ^^  Mirehousc  by  Bassenthwaite  lake,  just 
under  the  '  double-fronted  head  of  Skiddaw  ' — a  region  of 
fells,  cascades,  white  cottages  nestling  under  crags,  and 

*  streams  more  sweet  than  Castaly.'  ^  Bassenthwaite  lake 
and  Derwentwater  lie  like  two  pears,  the  taper  end  of 
each  pointing  to  the  other,  and  the  Derwent  river  join- 
ing them.  The  vicinage  is  all  classic  ground.  At 
Keswick,  on  the  Greta,  just  before  it  enters  Derwent- 
water, stood  the  cottage  in  which  Coleridge  resided  from 
1800  to  1804,  and  here  he  was  visited  by  Lamb  and 
Southey.  To  the  south-east,  and  in  Westmorland,  are 
two  other  smaller  pear-shaped  lakes,  also  lying  stalk  to 
stalk — Grasmere  and  Rydal  Water — sacred  to  Words- 
worth and  De  Quincey. 

It  was  the  time  of  daffodils,  which  yellowed  the  field 
in  front  of  the  house.  Spedding's  father  was  at  his 
farm  most  of  the  day,  and  in  the  evening  settled  to  a 

^  A  common  custom  in  the  *  Annuals  '  period.  In  the  same  volume,  for 
example,  Mrs.  Shelley  writes  a  tale,  '  The  Mortal  Immortal,'  to  go  with 
Briggs's  well-known  picture  of  'Juliet  and  the  Nurse,'  who  become  'Bertha' 
and  a  'high-born  hag.' 

-  Biographical  Edition  of  Thackeray,  xiii.  p.  601. 

'  Wordsworth. 


HARP  AND  LUTE  127 

book,  saying  little — a  practical  man,  who  liked  neither 
poets  nor  their  vagaries — and  therefore  not  too  pleased 
that  his  son  found  no  better  company  than  '  The  Cock ' 
coterie.  The  old  man  suffered  in  company  with  Charles 
Kemble  and  the  relatives  of  Frank  Edgeworth.  '  Jem  ' 
Spedding  was  one  more  sheep  (one  more  of  FitzGerald's 
friends)  gone  astray  into  the  wilderness  of  unremunera- 
tive  literature.  But  Spedding  had  a  mastery  of  himself 
that  would  have  extorted  praise  from  an  Epictetus. 
Stoicism  and  a  quiet  melancholy  were  his  chief  charac- 
teristics. He  could  not  quite  drive  out  the  sadness 
brought  about  by  the  loss  of  friends — and  death  had 
already  removed  friends  from  him — but  that  verse  of 
Horace's,  so  ably  translated  by  Dryden,  always  lined 
his  melancholy  with  gold — 

*  Happy  the  man,  and  happy  he  alone, 
He  who  can  call  to-day  his  own  ' ; 

and  especially  the  concluding  lines — 

'  Not  Heaven  itself  upon  the  past  has  power, 
And  what  has  been,  has  been,  and  I  have  had  my  hour.' 

Later  he  could  write,  '  The  past  is  sacred  and  sanctified, 
nothing  can  happen  hereafter  to  alter  or  disturb  or 
obliterate  it.  .  .  .  To  me  there  are  no  companions  more 
welcome,  cordial,  consolatory,  or  cheerful  than  my  dead 
friends.'  ^ 

Subsequently  there  joined  the  party  Alfred  Tennyson, 
'Hercules  as  well  as  Apollo,'^  'a  sort  of  Hyperion,' 
powerful,  serene,  with  a  great  shock  of  dusty  dark  hair, 
bright,  laughing,  hazel  eyes,  massive  aquiline  face,  and 
sallow  brown  complexion. ^  The  poet  found  little  favour 
with  the  elder  Spedding,  who  cared  nothing  for  Lords 

^  Autobiography  of  [Sir']  Henry  Taylor. 

'•'  Brookfield.  ^  Carlyle. 


128         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

of  Burleigh  ;  preferred  a  sheep's  fleece  to  the  hair  of  a 
mermaid  ;  and  did  not  even  want  to  know  '  where  Claribel 
low  lieth.'  '  Well,  Mr.  FitzGerald,'  Mr.  Spedding  would 
say,  'and  what  is  it?  Mr.  Tennyson  reads,  and  Jem 
criticises,  is  that  it?'  Tennyson  read  aloud  a  great  deal 
of  Wordsworth  (he  particularly  admired  *  Michael '), 
Keats,  and  Milton  ;  and  Spedding  not  only  read  aloud 
too  'as  if  bees  were  about  his  mouth,'  but  drew  a  pic- 
ture of  Tennyson  in  an  armchair.  With  Mrs.  Spedding 
— a  motherly  body — FitzGerald  used  to  play  chess  ;  and 
there  was  also  present  a  Mrs.  Bristowe,  who  would  have 
them  call  the  place  Merehouse.  The  three  friends  as- 
cended the  'mountain  called  Dod,'  rambled  over  Grise- 
dale  Pike,  and  at  the  end  of  May  went  to  lodge  for  a 
week  at  Ambleside,  within  a  mile  of  Wordsworth,  who 
then  resided  at  Rydal  Mount.  But  neither  FitzGerald 
nor  Tennyson,  much  as  they  admired  'the  Daddy,'  as 
they  called  him,  would  pay  the  veteran  poet  a  visit. 
Says  Spedding:  'I  could  not  get  Alfred  to  Rydal 
Mount.  He  would  and  would  not  (sulky  one),  although 
Wordsworth  was  hospitably  inclined  towards  him,' 
Tennyson's  '  little  humours  and  grumpinesses '  pro- 
voked frequent  laughter,  especially  from  FitzGerald, 
who,  as  Spedding  said,  'loved  to  see  a  man  in  his 
weaknesses,'^  and  FitzGerald  amused  himself  with  his 
pencil,  producing,  among  other  sketches,  a  chalk  draw- 
ing of  a  back  view  of  Tennyson's  head  and  shoulders.^ 
He  writes  to  Thackeray,  who  is  in  Paris,  to  say  how 
happy  he  is  ;  and  Thackeray  in  a  reply  proposed  that 
they  should  take  a  chateau  in  Normandy  and  be 
nothing  to  the  world  for  a  year — accompanying  the  text 
(as  was  his  wont)  with  an  illustration  of  the  imagined 

^  Unpublished  letter  of  Spedding's. 

^  There  is  an  engraving  from  it  in  the  Life  of  Lord  Tennyson. 


HARP  AND  LUTE  129 

chateau.     '  We  would  fit  it  up  in  the  old  style,  and  live 
in  it  after  the  manner  of  Orestes  and  Pylades.'  ^ 

After  leaving  Ambleside,  FitzGerald  stayed  again  at 
Castle  Irwell,  and  later,  for  a  month,  at  Warwick — drawn 
thither  by  Sir  Walter  Scott's  story.  He  sketches,  reads 
Dante,  and  poetizes.  Hearing  that  Tennyson,  whose 
income  was  small,  needed  a  certain  sum  by  a  particular 
date,  he  wrote  and  offered,  in  a  delicate  manner,  to  send 
it.  In  one  of  his  references  to  Tennyson,  FitzGerald, 
revealing  an  extraordinary  weakness,  observes  :  '  I  felt 
what  Charles  Lamb  describes,  a  sense  of  depression  at 
times  from  the  overshadowing  of  a  so  much  more  lofty 
intellect  than  my  own.'  Yet  FitzGerald,  take  you  his 
gifts  as  poet,  letter-writter,  and  critic,  stands  at  least 
Tennyson's  equal  ;  just  as  Lamb  does  not  occupy  a  plane 
inferior  to  that  of  Coleridge  and  the  other  bright  particular 
spirits  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  and  of  whom  he 
occasionally  stood  in  awe. 

As  we  noticed,  FitzGerald's  father  had,  some  years 
previous,  purchased  Boulge  Hall,  subject  to  the  life- 
interest  in  it  of  Mrs.  Short.  That  acrimonious  ^^  pareweU 
old  lady  being  now  dead,  he  decided  to  make  to  Wherstead. 
it  his  home.  FitzGerald  gets  up  early  one  July  morning, 
slips  on  an  ancient  red  dressing-gown,  goes  to  his  battered 
rosewood  desk,  and  writes  a  letter  to  Thackeray  telling  the 
news.  The  whole  family,  he  says,  is  collected  there — all 
his  brothers  and  sisters,  with  their  wives,  husbands,  and 
children,  including  his  brother  John's  wife  Augusta,  the 
idol  of  her  husband,  sweet,  cheerful,  and  Christianly  as 
ever,  who,  though  only  twenty-four,  is  marked  for 
death.  There  is  then  nothing  but  packing  up  sofas  and 
pictures  ;  and  all  left  very  regretfully— after  a  connection 
of  ten  years — a  beautiful  home,  in  which  they  had  ex- 
perienced much  happiness. 

1  Biographical  Edition  of  Thackeray,  vol.  ix.  p.  41. 


BOOK    I  I  I 

BOULGE 

Eighteen  Years  (July  1835-1853) 


CHAPTER    V 

BOULGE  HALL 

JULY  1835 — AUGUST  1838 

FitzGerald  describes  Boulge,  with  its  pollards  and 
regular  hedges,  as  one  of  the  ugliest  and  dullest  places  in 
England  ;  but  matters  have  since  improved.  ^^^  Boulge 
Thus  the  local  mania  for  felling  trees  has  ^au. 
spent  itself,  and  in  spring  and  summer,  whatever  it  may 
be  in  winter,  the  country  round  has  many  a  quiet  charm. 
As  regards  company,  if  there  is  not  the  roar  of  Cheapside, 
there  is  the  song  of  the  thrush  ;  and  I  saw  at  Boulge  in  an 
hour  more  cowslips  than  I  had  before  seen  in  all  my  life.  It 
is  truly  a  land  of  cowslips.  Boulge  Park  was  yellow  with 
them,  stretching  away  like  a  sea  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  and  loading  the  air  with  their  refreshing  perfume. 
And  the  cowslip  reminds  of  FitzGerald's  great  love  for  our 
English  wildflowers — '  for  all  deare  Nature's  children 
sweete.'^  He  took  the  trouble  to  underline  in  his  copy  of 
Ainsworth's  Anglo-Saxon  Dictionary''-  the  name  of  every 
wildflower  mentioned.  He  loved  the  heavenly  blue  rosettes 
of  the  succory  which  star  the  road  between  Boulge  and 
Woodbridge,  and  especially  loved  the  violet,  *  fearing  to  be 
looked  upon,'  which  he  made  the  subject  of  a  short  poem.^ 
On  the  way  from  Woodbridge  to  Boulge  you  pass  '  The 

*  Lines  from  an  old  poet,  copied  by  FitzGerald  into  his  '  Museum  Book.' 
2  Now  in  possession  of  Mr.  Vincent  Redstone  of  Woodbridge. 
'  Miscellanies,  p.  207. 

VOL.  I.  F 


134         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

White  House,'  FitzGerald's  birthplace,  on  your  left,  and 
Bredfield  village  and  church  on  your  right.  At  the  gate 
of  Boulge  Park  is  Mrs.  Short's  thatched  cottage,  and 
following  the  drive  one  reaches  the  Hall,  a  handsome 
building  of  Queen  Anne  date,  with  a  spacious  porch, 
standing  on  a  balustraded  terrace,  and  picturesquely  sur- 
rounded with  flower  gardens  and  ornamental  trees. 
Climbing  plants  cover  the  walls — one  a  cascade  of  delicate 
blue,  and  so  lovely  that  the  gardener,  when  passing  it, 
religiously  doffs  his  hat ;  whilst  there  are  ample  kitchen 
gardens  and  modern  greenhouses  in  the  rear.  The  house 
was  scarcely  a  convenient  one  in  the  FitzGeralds'  time, 
though  some  of  the  rooms  were  of  noble  proportions. 
In  the  library  were  glass  cases  with  relics  from  Naseby, 
and  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  were  two  large  oil  paintings, 
one  representing  Edward  FitzGerald  and  his  brothers 
John  and  Peter  as  boys,^  and  another  (which  is  still 
in  the  house)  a  view  of  Naseby  Woolleys.  The  stables 
and  the  room  adjoining — 'the  chapel,'  where  John 
FitzGerald  held  his  evangelistic  services,  and  Edward 
sometimes  taught  the  village  children — are  little  altered, 
whilst  'Old  Nelly,'  the  clock  referred  to  by  Edward 
in  his  letters,  still  keeps  very  good  time — 'ten  of  the 
clock,  by  the  chime  now  sounding  from  the  stables.' ^ 
The  filmy  forms  of  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Short,  who  lived 
and  died  so  miserably,  are  said  to  haunt  the  park,  but 
in  the  spirit  they  are  as  disobliging  to  visitors  as  they 
were  in  the  flesh  to  each  other,  for  though  we  have 
been  there  at  dusk,  and  have  even  looked  out  of  a 
window  at  Boulge  Hall  near  midnight,  they  never  once 
vouchsafed  us  a  sight  of  their  persons.  The  church, 
approached  from  the  Hall  by  an  avenue  of  beeches,  is  of 

^  It  was  at  Boulge  Hall  in  1851. 

^  To  F.  Tennyson,  loth  December  1843. 


BOULGE   HAI.L 

Front  a pkoto^r^ph  by  R.  Eato}i  ]t'liite^  Esq. 


BOULGK   CHURCH 
From  a photoivafli  liy  R.  liatou  ll'hile,  lisij. 


ri.ATl-  X\I. 


BOULGE  HALL  137 

flint,  with  an  ivy-covered  brick  tower,  near  which  are  the 
mausoleum  of  the  FitzGeralds,  and  the  tomb,  of  which 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  particularly  in  the  last 
chapter  of  this  work. 

If  FitzGerald  did  not  eulogise  his  own  corner  of  Suffolk, 
he  at  any  rate  preferred  Boulge  to  his  town  lodgings  ; 
and  handsome  Mr.  Osborn  Shribb  Reynolds,  the  venerable 
white-headed  rector,  to  old  Lady  Morgan,  who  in  her 
powders  and  paint  then  dominated  literary  London. 
Boulge  was  at  least  clean  (how  often  in  later  years  he 
urged  Carlyle  to  leave  his  filthy  London),  and  it  was 
pleasant  too  to  sit  '  on  the  banks  of  the  dear  old  Deben,' 
distant  only  a  mile  or  two,  '  and  watch  the  collier  sloop 
going  forth  into  the  wide  world  as  the  sun  sinks.' 
While,  indeed,  FitzGerald,  whether  in  earnest  or  not, 
deprecates  very  frequently  Boulge  and  Woodbridge,  he 
can  never  speak  glowingly  enough  of  the  Deben,  which 
inspired  at  least  three  of  his  friends — Mitford,  Barton, 
and  John  Hindes  Groome.  Mitford,  then  editor  of  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine^  wrote  '  The  Walk '  on  the 
banks  of  the  Deben,  and  'The  Farmer's  Daughter,' ^ 
about  a  pleasant  young  lady  who  on  a  Sunday  gives 
to  all  a  modest  greeting,  'except'  (deliciously)  'the 
folks  who  came  from  meeting ' ;  Barton  sang  '  No  stately 
villas'  ;-  Groome  '  Deben  !  no  cloud-capped  mountains,'"^ 
confining  his  attention  to  the  river  before  it  broadens  out 
into  its  wide  estuary.  FitzGerald,  however,  instead  of 
sitting  at  home  and  writing  about  the  Deben,  went  out  in 
boat  or  yacht  and  enjoyed  it. 

About  the  time  the  FitzGeralds  removed  to  Boulge,  the 
Rev.  George  Crabbe,  son  of  the  poet,  was  appointed  to 

^  '  On  Deben's  banks  our  little  farm.'      Gentle/nan^s  Magazine,  November 
1835,  December  1836. 
-  Household  Verses,  p.  234.  ^  Gentleman^ s  Magazine,  September  1S39. 


138         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

the  vicarage  of  the  adjoining  parish  of  Bredfield.  As  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  three  Crabbes,  all  clergy- 
.jQj.  men,  and  all  named  George,  a  word  or  two 

Crabbe  the  may  be  required  to  prevent  confusion.  The 
first  George  Crabbe  was  the  poet,  and  very 
much  FitzGerald's  idol,  who,  as  we  saw,  died  at  Trow- 
bridge in  1832.  George  Crabbe  the  second,  son  of  the 
poet,  was  vicar  of  Bredfield.  George  Crabbe  the  third 
was  son  of  George  Crabbe  the  second,  and  rector  of 
Merton,  in  Norfolk.  George  Crabbe  the  second,  '  The 
Radiator,'  as  FitzGerald  dubbed  him,  from  the  gleams  of 
wisdom  and  mirth  he  emitted,  was  at  this  time  about 
fifty,  or  almost  double  the  age  of  FitzGerald,  who  had 
just  passed  twenty-six.  He  was  a  strong,  muscular  man 
of  the  Parson  Adams  type,  with  a  prominent  Wellington 
nose.  Like  FitzGerald,  he  was  careless  of  personal 
appearance,  his  clothes  did  not  fit,  his  hat  was  never  in 
the  right  place.  As  he  could  not  be  trusted  with  money 
(for  when  out  he  invariably  gave  away  all  he  had  to  the 
needy  or  the  plausible),  his  daughters  used  to  take  the 
precaution  of  emptying  his  pockets  before  he  quitted  the 
house.  He  was  loved  by  all  in  the  parish,  and  he  loved 
all  and  prayed  for  all,  'including  Mary  Ann  Cuthbert,' 
the  only  black  sheep  in  his  flock.  FitzGerald  calls  him 
heroic,^  noble-minded,  rash  in  judgment  and  act,  liable 
'  to  sudden  and  violent  emotions,  and  morbidly  self- 
distrustful,  though  over-confident  in  the  success  of  causes 
near  his  heart ;  with  simple  habits '  and  a  Cervantic 
humour.  He  had  a  passion  for  botany  and  fine  trees, 
and  once  pleased  FitzGerald  hugely  by  saying  of  a  land- 
owner who  had  felled  some  oaks  that  he  had  '  scandalously 
misused  the  globe.' 

His  Life  of  his  father,  written  in  1835  is,  of  course,  a 

^  Gentleman^s  Magazine,  November  1857. 


BOULGE  HALL  139 

classic,  and  FitzGerald  considered  it  '  one  of  the  most 
delightful  memoirs  in  the  language.'  Yet  for  the  muse 
George  Crabbe  the  second  cared  so  little  that  he  did  not 
even  take  the  trouble  to  read  his  father's  poems  till  late  in 
life.  One  of  his  first  actions  on  settling  at  Bredfield  was 
to  erect  a  new  vicarage  at  a  cost  of  ;^i400.  He  loved  to 
sit  and  meditate  in  a  dismal  little  study,  reeking  with 
tobacco  smoke,  and  smelling  like  an  inn-parlour,  which 
he  called  'The  Cobblery.'  Here  he  prepared  his  sermons 
and  entertained  his  friends,  smoking  unintermittently  and 
increasing  in  happiness  as  their  forms  became  more  indis- 
tinct. Such  was  the  man  who  for  twenty-two  years  was 
to  be  FitzGerald's  neighbour  and  intimate  friend.  Crabbe, 
whose  wife  was  dead,  had  a  large  family,  including  three 
daughters,  and  with  the  eldest,  Caroline  Matilda — a  tall, 
fair  girl  with  two  large  curls,  one  on  each  side  her  face — 
FitzGerald  presently  fell  deeply  in  love,  a  fact  that  has 
never  before  been  recorded.  She  was  pious  and  ami- 
able, and,  like  FitzGerald,  musical.  By  Crabbe's  wish 
FitzGerald  went  in  and  out  of  Bredfield  vicarage  as  if 
it  was  his  own  house.  The  younger  children  were  fond 
of  him  and  proud  to  go  into  the  garden,  where  he  used  to 
sit  and  write,  and  call  him  to  lunch,  '  but  he  was  sure  not 
to  come  if  called,  though  he  would  come  if  not  called  '  ; 
and  he  made  them  happy  by  praising  their  gardens 
because  they  were  overrun  with  nasturtiums,  his  favourite 
flower. 

Among  the  books  dear  to  FitzGerald  was  the  Rev. 
John  Newton's  Letters  to  a  Wife,  his  unstinted  praise  of 
which  has  had  the  effect  of  reattracting  atten-  ^  Newton 
tion  to  a  delightful  and  once  popular  work,  and  Cowper. 
People  are  rather  apt  to  regard  Newton  as  a  kind  of 
satellite  of  Cowper,  whereas  he  had  a  notable  and  distinct 
individuality,  and,  leaving  out  of  consideration  his  prose 


I40         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

masterpiece,  ranks  as  a  hymnist  with  the  very  greatest ; 
for  if  his  worst  hymns,  like  the  worst  of  Wesley,  Watts, 
and  Cowper,  are  feeble  and  unpoetical,  his  best — for 
example,  'How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds,'  and 
'  Begone,  Unbelief — are  second  to  none  in  the  language. 
Another  error  that  many,  and  FitzGerald  among  them, 
have  fallen  into  is  that  of  regarding  Newton's  influence 
over  Cowper  as  deleterious — the  bright,  witty,  almost 
jovial  Newton,  that  delightful  fountain  of  sound  divinity 
and  unconsidered  bons  mots,  that  ecclesiastical  Charles 
Lamb,  who  spent  all  his  life,  as  his  letters  to  Symonds 
and  others  show,  in  trying  to  cheer  up  souls  less  buoyant 
than  his  own  !  Southey  blackened  Newton  to  posterity, 
and  hundreds  since,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  inves- 
tigate for  themselves,  have  echoed  his  words.  FitzGerald 
himself,  whilst  expressing  admiration  for  Newton,  was 
carried  away  by  Southey 's  diatribe.  Writing  on  31st 
October  1835,  he  says  :  '  I  have  just  read  Southey's  Life 
of  Cowper — that  is  to  say,  the  first  volume.  ...  It  is  a 
fearful  book.  Have  you  read  it?  Southey  hits  hard  at 
Newton  in  the  dark  ;  which  will  give  offence  to  many 
people  ;  but  I  perfectly  agree  with  him.  At  the  same 
time,  I  think  that  Newton  was  a  man  of  great  power. 
Did  you  ever  read  his  life  by  himself?  ^  Pray  do,  if 
you  have  not.  His  journal  to  his  wife,^  written  at  sea, 
contains  some  of  the  most  beautiful  things  I  ever  read  : 
fine  "feeling"  in  "very  fine"  English.'^  FitzGerald 
found  the  second  volume  of  Southey  dull,  seeing  that 
'  one  is  naturally  impatient  of  all  matter  that  does  not 

^  The  Authentic  Narrative,  etc.,  August  1764. 

2  Letters  to  a  Wife.      2  vols.      April   1793.      Vol.   i.  written  during  three' 
voyages  to  Africa  (from  1750  to  1754);  vol.  ii.   written  in  England  (from  1755 
to  1785). 

2  Letters  of  Edward  FitzGerald,  vol.   i.  p.   41.      Quoted  by  permission  of 
Messrs.  Macmillan. 


BOULGE  HALL  141 

absolutely  touch  Cowper ' — a  reference  to  Southey's 
wearisome  and  interminable  digression  on  the  history  of 
poetry  ;  but  observes  that  he  is  glad  W.  B.  Donne  had 
read  the  work  with  satisfaction.  In  March  (1836)  Donne 
was  exhibiting  interest  in  the  reputed  common  ancestor 
of  himself  and  Cowper,  namely  the  Rev.  Dr.  Donne, 
the  distinguished  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  and  FitzGerald 
urged  him  to  secure  a  copy  of  his  '  ancestor's  sermons.' 

Spedding  had  just  furnished  chambers  in  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  and  FitzGerald  in  company  with  him  one 
day  paid  a  visit  to  their  common  friend  R.  J.  Tennant  at 
Blackheath,  where  they  met  Frank  Edgeworth,  who  had 
taken  a  large  house  at  Eltham,  near  King  John's  Palace, 
and  was  advertising  for  pupils  to  prepare  for  the  Univer- 
sity. '  Poor  Edgeworth,'  writes  Carlyle,  who  about  this 
time^  paid  a  visit  to  Eltham,  'tried  this  business  for  a 
while,  but  found  no  success  at  all.  ...  I  very  well  recol- 
lect the  big  Edgeworth  house  at  Eltham  ;  the  big  old 
palace  now  a  barn.'  A  few  years  later  Frank  returned  to 
his  native  Edgeworthstown  and  took  charge  of  the  estates 
of  his  famous  half-sister. 

In  January  1837  FitzGerald  is  at  Geldestone  Hall 
again,  taking  Christopher  Wordsworth's  advice  and  sur- 
rendering himself  to  Aristophanes,  who  makes  him  laugh 
heartily.  Wherever  FitzGerald  goes  he  finds — and  for 
such  research  he  had  a  perfect  genius — some  dear  old 
lady  who  delights  him  by  her  conversation  and  agreeable 
manner,  and  who,  on  her  side,  is  charmed  with  his  good 
nature  and  chivalry.  Thus  at  Gillingham,  near  Gelde- 
stone, he  makes  friends  with  a  Mrs.  Schutz,  who  imparts 
to  him  *  the  names  of  the  stars  and  other  chaste  informa- 
tion '  ;  and  to  his  conversations  with  her  may  be  traced 

^  Spring    1836.      FitzGerald   was    at    Blackheath,  middle   of  March    1836. 
Carlyle's  Life  of  Sterling,  chap.  iv. 


142  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

his  reference  to  the  '  zodiacal  constellations  which  Aries 
leads  over  the  field  of  Heaven,'^  and  some  other  effective 
allusions  in  his  works.  He  gets  for  her,  and  at  her 
request  promptly,  for  she  did  not  expect  to  live  through 
the  year,  a  copy  of  Taylor's  Holy  Living  a7id  Holy  Dyuig^ 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  she  lived  another  ten  years,  and 
imparted  additional  astronomical  information.  Fitz- 
Gerald's  pleasure  in  the  society  of  cheery  and  cultured 
old  ladies  continued  right  on  until  he  became  an  old 
lady  himself — until  he  was  numbered  (his  own  expres- 
sion) among  the  '  dowagers '  of  Woodbridge. 

To  the  thatched  cottage  erected  by  Mrs.  Short  close 
to    the    gates    of   Boulge   Park   we    have    several    times 

alluded.  FitzGerald,  who  had  spent  the  last 
tae-e  at^  ° "  seven  years  of  his  life  rambling  about  the 
Boulge,  April    country  with  friends  or  staying  with  relatives, 

now  felt  a  desire  for  a  home  or  den  of  his 
very  own,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  take  up  his  abode 
there. 

It  was,  and  is,  a  single  storied  tenement  of  two  apart- 
ments separated  by  a  passage.  He  made  the  room  on 
the  right  of  the  entrance  his  study,  that  on  the  left  his 
bedroom.  He  complained  that  the  walls,  which  are  of 
lath  and  plaster,  were  as  'thin  as  a  sixpence,'  and  damp. 
In  the  rear  were  trees,  including  a  walnut — the  last  a 
doubtful  advantage,  owing  to  boys  not  being  unknown 
in  those  parts.  The  tenement  at  the  back  of  this  cottage, 
and  adjoining  it,  was  occupied  by  a  Waterloo  man  named 
John  Faire,"  who  worked  for  FitzGerald's  father  ;  whilst 
Mrs.  Faire,  a  snuffy  but  vain  old  woman,  with  very  red 
arms,    who   wore,   besides   other  vanities,    an   enormous 

^  Euphranor. 

-  The  name  is  thus  spelt  on  his  tombstone  in  Boulge  churchyard,  but  I  have 
also  seen  it  spelt  '  Faiers.'     He  died  in  i860,  aged  seventy-seven. 


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o 


BOULGE  HALL  145 

bonnet  full  of  flowers,  looked  after  'Mr.  Edward.'  Fitz- 
Gerald  had  in  his  heart  a  soft  corner  for  all  Waterloo  men, 
and  he  esteemed  John  particularly  because  he  had  not 
only  fought  in  the  battle  but  had  also  guarded  Napoleon 
at  St.  Helena.  Save  for  the  loss  of  a  thumb,  the  good 
man  was  none  the  worse  for  his  military  experiences  ; 
moreover,  as  another  man  in  the  parish  had  three  thumbs, 
matters,  as  John  remarked,  could  not  possibly  have  been 
more  nicely  adjusted.  By  April  FitzGerald  had  got  the 
garden  in  order,  put  his  books  on  the  shelves  (as  you 
passed  along  the  drive  you  could  see  them  through  the 
window),  set  Stothard's  Canterbury  Pilgrims  over  the 
fireplace,  Shakespeare's  bust  in  a  recess,  and  begun  with 
a  cat,  a  dog,  and  a  parrot  called  '  Beauty  Bob '  a  very 
pleasant  Robinson  Crusoe  sort  of  life.  His  wants  were 
few.  He  had  books  and  pictures,  a  barrel  of  beer,  and 
his  snuffy,  red-armed,  finely-bedizened  old  woman  ;  and 
he  wanted  nothing  more.  His  bedroom  was  furnished 
as  simply  as  the  prophet's  chamber  at  Shunem.  Ward- 
robe he  had  none — for  he  could  always  hang  the  few 
clothes  he  possessed  on  his  own  person,  and  badly 
hung  they  were.  The  study,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
crowded.  Order  not  being  one  of  his  weaknesses,  the 
books  that  would  not  go  on  his  shelves  were  heaped  on 
the  floor.  Here  were  portraits  on  wall  or  easel,  there 
large  pictures,  boots,  music,  tobacco  pipes,  walking-sticks, 
mingled  in  pleasing  confusion  on  table,  chair,  and  piano 
(for  the  new  Robinson  Crusoe  had  a  piano,  and  played 
excellently).  With  his  window  open  to  let  in  the  odour 
of  the  cowslips  or  the  garden  flowers,  FitzGerald  sat  in 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  pipe  in  mouth,  and  let  time 
slide — troubling  about,  and  being  troubled  by,  nobody, 
except  the  Woodbridge  man  who  brought  him  his  letters 
and  thrice  a  week  shaved  him,  and  the  matchman,  with 


146         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

his  bundles  of  great  sulphur-tipped  matches,  whom  '  you 
could  smell  a  mile  off.' 

On  Sundays  he  occasionally  attended  church  with  the 
other  members  of  the  family,  but,  for  the  reason  that  it 
was  damp  and  given  over  to  toadstools  and  mice,  which 
ate  the  pew  curtains,  he  more  frequently  took  a  walk, 
preferring  to  study  Nature,  if  at  all,  out  of  doors,  or 
settled  himself  in  his  cottage  to  literature  whilst  the 
sounds  of  the  distant  Grundisburgh  bells  floated  music- 
ally in  at  the  window. 

Of  a  week  evening  he  would,  often  as  not,  light  a 
lantern,  and  cross  the  fields  to  spend  an  hour  or  two 
with  Crabbe  in  the  '  Cobblery,'  the  chief  joys  there  being, 
of  course,  pipes,  at  which  old  Shribb  Reynolds,  the  Boulge 
rector,  in  his  spectacles  with  circular  eyepieces,  some- 
times assisted.  When  they  joined  the  ladies  (FitzGerald 
liked  to  sit  next  to  Caroline),  pleasant  talk  and  music 
occupied  most  of  the  time,  though — the  vicar's  family 
included — they  had  not  a  voice  among  them.  At  home 
he  read  the  fine  sacred  poems  of  Henry  Vaughan,  in  a 
collection  of  the  Rev.  John  Mitford's,  Plutarch's  Lives ^  in 
which  he  revelled,  and  Theocritus. 

That  there  was  a  strain  of  indolence  in  FitzGerald  (as 
in  the  other  members  of  the  family)  is  clear  enough  ;  but 
he  was  also,  as  we  have  before  intimated,  a  man  of 
ambition — he  had  an  intense  desire  to  excel  in  composi- 
tion, both  prose  and  poetry  ;  and,  to  bring  about  this, 
took  infinite  pains.  Few  men  read  more  voraciously,  and 
everything  that  was  excellent  in  what  he  read  he  copied 
out  or  made  note  of.  He  was  as  ambitious  in  his  way  as 
Spedding,  Carlyle,  or  Tennyson,  and  he  succeeded. 
His  writings,  whether  in  prose  or  poetry,  have  taken 
their  place  in  the  first  rank.  His  fine  letters,  the 
Euphranor,  the  Salafnan,  and  the  Omar,  are  the  result  of 


BOULGE  HALL  147 

assiduous  study.  Men  do  not  write  classic  English  by- 
accident  ;  and  FitzGerald  was  no  exception.  Whatever 
he  did  he  subjected  to  continual  polish — even  his  earliest 
poems  betray  this — and,  like  all  really  great  souls,  he 
was  never  satisfied  with  himself. 

In  the  August  of  this  year  (1837)  died  the  sweet  and 
lovable  Augusta,  wife  of  his  brother  John,  who  never 
really  recovered  from  the  blow.  She  was  only  twenty-six, 
and  left  three  children,  Olivia,  who  died  the  following 
year,  Gerald,  and  Maurice.^  John  FitzGerald  possessed 
a  large  painting  of  his  wife  which  he  greatly  prized,  and 
every  night  he  had  it  taken  from  its  place  on  the  wall 
and  put  at  the  foot  of  his  bed,  so  that  he  could  see  it  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  Some  of  her  clothes,  too,  he 
would  always  have  near  him.  Indeed  all  his  life  he 
mourned  his  loss  ;  and  this  distressing  event,  acting 
on  a  nervous  nature,  was  probably  responsible  for  the 
eccentric  conduct  that  marked  his  subsequent  years. 

By  1838  FitzGerald  and  Bernard  Barton  ^  had  become 
bosom  friends,  and  not  only  met  but  often  wrote  to  each 
other,    chiefly   on    literary   matters.       Barton 

...  _ .       .  1  .      1  1  1  •  44-  Bernard 

was  at  this  time  fifty-four,  his  daughter  thirty-   Barton  and 

one,   and  FitzGerald   twenty-nine.      In    1824   his  daughter 

Lucy. 

the  Quaker  fraternity  had  presented  Barton 
with  ^1200,  so  with  his  income  at  the  bank  he  was  now 
in  comfortable  circumstances.  His  poems  were  known 
in  every  Suffolk  homestead,  and  good  little  maidens  by 
the  Deben  liked  to  see  a  copy  lying  in  their  chair  beside 
their  prayer-book  before  going  to  sleep.  Charles  Lamb 
praised  the  verses  to  the  Memory  of  Bloomfield  ;    Fitz- 

'  John  married  a  second  wife,  Hester,  daughter  of  Mr.  William  Haddon,  who 
outlived  him,  dying  in  1888.  'I  should  never  have  married  again,'  he  used  to 
say,  'but  to  give  my  children  a  mother.' 

2  Barton  lived  first  in  Cumberland  Street,  afterwards  at  the  back  of  Messrs. 
Alexander's  bank,  and  lastly  near  the  Quakers'  Meeting. 


148         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Gerald  those  to  Joanna,  and  '  some  on  the  decline  of  life 
and  the  religious  consolations  attending  it.'  Barton  was 
very  regular  in  his  habits,  and  might  be  seen  every- 
day at  precisely  the  same  moment,  in  his  broad-brim, 
spectacles,  gaiters,  white  stockings,  and  low  shoes, 
journeying  in  the  direction  of,  or  returning  from,  the 
bank.  He  sometimes  made  excursions  on  the  Deben 
with  FitzGerald,  but  got  most  happiness  at  his  own  cosy 
fireside.  There,  a  glass  of  wine,  and  the  '  working  box 
and  table  companion  '  of  the  poet  Crabbe  at  his  elbow, 
snuff-box  in  hand,  and  Cowper's  poems  or  one  of  Scott's 
novels  on  knee,  he  purred  like  the  sleek,  scrupulously 
clean,  self-satisfied  kitten  which  he  precisely  was.  Year 
after  year  he  inclined  more  to  his  books  and  pictures,  and 
less  to  heath,  cornfield,  and  river,  and  at  last  went  but 
rarely  from  home  except  to  his  bank  and  the  meeting-house. 
Let  him  be  summed  up  in  FitzGerald's  words  :  'A  very 
strange  character  ;  a  good-hearted  and  benevolent  person, 
with  a  good  deal  of  pride  and  caution,  with  a  pretence  at 
humility  ;  perverse,  formal,  strict,  plain,  and  unpresuming 
in  his  dress — a  great  many  contradictions  of  character.'^ 

Lucy  Barton,  afterwards  FitzGerald's  wife,  tall,  angular, 
and  pleasant  (though  plain),  was  her  father's  right- 
hand,  managing  his  house  and  interesting  herself  in  his 
literary  work.  She  is  the  busy  bee,  *  the  gentle  stream- 
let, the  flower  making  fragrant  the  meadow,'  of  his  poems. 
These,  says  he,  '  are  types  of  thee  and  of  the  active  worth 
thy  modest  merit  hides.'  The  partiality  of  the  father  did 
not  notice  that  she  was  a  rather  peremptory  busy  bee, 
and  his  verses  clothe  her  with  a  personal  beauty  which 
in  the  eyes  of  others  she  did  not  possess.  She  wrote 
verses  herself,  some  of  which  appeared  in  Fulcher's  Sud- 
hiiry  Pocket-Book  and  other  volumes,  but  in  after  years 

^  Browne  Mss.  Word  Pictures. 


BOULGE  HALL  149 

repudiated,  and  justly,  the  insinuation  that  they  were 
poetry.  Early  in  the  twenties  she  had  accompanied 
her  father  on  a  visit  to  Charles  Lamb,  then  domiciled  at 
Colebrook  Cottage,  Islington,  and  Lamb  furnished  for 
her  album  the  lines  beginning — 

'  Little  Book  surnamed  of  white,' 

and  ending — 

'Whitest  thoughts  in  whitest  dress, 
Candid  meanings,  best  express 
Mind  of  quiet  Quakeress.' 

To  Lc.mb's  beautiful  essay,  'A  Quaker's  Meeting,'  also 
inspired  by  his  friendship  for  Bernard  and  Lucy  Barton, 
one  need  do  no  more  than  refer.  Barton  was  more  than 
once  advised  to  leave  Quakerism  and  ioin  the  Church  of 
England.  Writing  on  ist  September  1837,  he  says  :  '  I 
am  now  almost  the  sole  representative  of  my  father's 
house,  .  .  .  left  as  an  adherent  to  the  creed  he  adopted 
from  a  conscientious  conviction  of  truth.  .  .  .  Lucy  tells 
me  I  must  turn  too.  ...  I  love  them  not  a  whit  less 
for  abandoning  it,  .  .  .  still  I  must  e'en  be  a  Quaker 
still.  My  Lucy  was,  comparatively,  a  chit  when  she 
apostatised '  ;  and  later,  '  the  longer  I  live,  the  more  I 
prize  Quaker  principles.'  After  Lamb's  death,  which 
took  place  on  24th  December  1834,  Lucy  Barton  in  an 
un-Quakerly  dress  of  blue  muslin,  called  on  Mary  Lamb, 
who  took  her  hand,  stroked  down  her  skirts  once  or 
twice,  and  said,  with  a  look  of  surprise  and  perhaps  of 
slight  reproach,  *  Bernard  Barton's  daughter  ! '  ^ 

A  model  housekeeper,  and  an  excellent  conversationalist, 
prim,  exact,  and  masterful,  Lucy  Barton  went  through  life 
authoritatively.  Every  one  liked  her — even  her  Sunday- 
school  scholars,  though  in  the  street  they  called  after  her, 
at  a  safe  distance,  '  Step-a-yard,'  in  allusion  to  the  long 

^  Article  by  E.  V.  L.  in  The  Academy,  3rd  December  1898. 


I50         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

strides  she  used  to  take.  Primarily  for  her  Sunday-school 
scholars  she  wrote,  and  in  183 1  published,  a  book 
entitled  Bible  Letters  for  Children^  with  introductory 
verses  by  her  father:  an  'unpretending  little  volume,' 
submitted  to  the  public  '  with  the  distrust  natural  to  a  first 
attempt  in  so  important  a  field  of  labour.'  The  letters  are 
addressed  to  '  My  dear  children.'  *  I  have  thought,'  says 
the  writer,  '  that  if  you  had  a  few  letters  written  by  one 
who  loves  you  very  dearly,  that  .  .  .  you  would  take  them 
up  and  read  them,  and  might  chance  to  find  therein  .  .  . 
something  that  would  lead  you  early  to  think  upon  that 
great  and  good  Being  who  made  you  and  me,  and  all  this 
beautiful  earth,  and  not  these  things  only,  but  also  a 
glorious  and  happy  heaven,  where  such  of  you  as  love  to 
obey  Him  will  live  in  His  presence  for  ever.'  The  intro- 
ductory lines  by  Bernard  Barton  end  with  a  striking  verse. 
After  giving  an  epitome  of  Old  Testament  history,  he 
comes  to  Jesus  Christ,  the  Resurrection,  and  the  Gift  of 
the  Comforter  ;  and  concludes  happily — 

'  While  such  stupendous  themes  remain 

For  wonder,  love,  and  praise^ 
Who  shall  ungratefully  maintain 
These  are  not  Bible  days?' 

The  letters,  twenty-nine  in  number,  cover  Bible  history 
from  Genesis  to  the  Captivity.  In  the  closing  address 
the  writer  asks  the  children  if  they  wish  to  have  for  their 
friend  the  Almighty  Being  whose  goodness  and  mercy 
are  so  conspicuously  evident  in  these  narratives.  '  I  hear 
you  all  say  Yes  ;  for  what  would  become  of  us  if  He  were 
against  us?  Oh,  then,  pray  to  the  Saviour,  that  He  may 
fill  your  hearts  with  His  Holy  Spirit,  which  will  lead  you 
to  God.'  The  Bible  Letters  give  us  a  good  idea  of  one  of 
the  sides  of  the  character  of  her  who  was  to  become  Fitz- 
Gerald's  wife.     At  the  time  of  their  publication,  however, 


BOULGE  HALL  151 

though  he  was  intimate  with  Lucy  Barton,   FitzGerald's 
heart  was  with  Caroline  Crabbe. 

In  1837  appeared  Carlyle's  French  Revolution^  of  which 
FitzGerald,  who  did  not  like  it  on  account  of  its  absence 
of  repose  and  equable  movement,  says  :  '  I  don't  know  a 
book  more  certain  to  evaporate  away  from  posterity  than 
that,  except  it  be  supported  by  his  other  works.'  The 
only  pity  is  that  Carlyle  did  not  treat  Cromwell  and 
Frederick  in  the  same  way  as  the  Revolution,  and  give 
compact  and  perfect  works  of  art  with  a  beginning,  a 
middle,  and  an  end,  instead  of  huge,  shapeless,  sprawling 
masses,  terrifying  to  all  save  the  most  venturesome  and 
intrepid.  FitzGerald,  however,  when  these  came  to  be 
written,  liked  them  no  better  than  the  Revolution.  Later, 
Alfred  Tennyson,  'very  droll  and  wayward,'  visited  Fitz- 
Gerald in  his  Boulge  den,  and  sat  and  smoked  late  with 
him  ;  and  in  May  of  the  next  year  (1838)  FitzGerald  was 
in  London,  where  he  heard  Carlyle  lecture  on  Hero- 
Worship.  He  spent  the  28th  of  June  (Queen  Victoria's 
Coronation  Day)  at  Kitlands,  near  Leith  Hill,  having 
been,  with  Spedding  and  W.  F.  Pollock,  invited  there  by 
Douglas  Heath,  a  Trinity  tutor,  and  son  of  its  owner.  In 
the  grounds  was  a  long  open  bath,  secluded  by  trees,  and 
at  the  sound  of  the  distant  cannon  announcing  that  the 
coronation  ceremony  had  been  performed,  the  four  took 
headers  into  the  water,  and  swam  about,  singing  '  God 
save  the  Queen.'  FitzGerald's  friend,  Fanny  Kemble, 
who  had  married  and  settled  in  America,  was  now  back  in 
London  again,  just  in  time  to  see  her  father  leave  the  stage 
and  close  his  professional  career.  Anglo-Saxon  Kemble 
continued  to  get  fame  enough  for  two  men,  but  not  half 
enough  money  for  one ;  Dickens  had  just  published 
Pickwick;  and  Sydney  Smith  was  delighting  the  drawing- 
rooms  of  London  with  his  humorous  sallies. 


CHAPTER    VI 

CHIEFLY  BEDFORD 

AUGUST  1838 — JUNE  184I 

Bibliography 

7.  'Bredfield  Hall,' JVriUen  iS^g 

8.  '  Chronomoros '  in   Fulcher's  Poetical  Mis- 

cellany,   Signed  Anon.  1841 

As  we  said,  FitzGerald  seems  to  have  spent  part  of  the 

summer  of  every  year  at    Bedford.      Browne,  the  Ouse 

and  its  poplars  were  never  long-  out  of  his 

45.  'Flowing-  •      ,         tt       • 

Rivers  full  of  mmd.  He  mterested  himself  in  the  literary 
Fishes."  'The   associations   of  the   town    and   vicinity,    and 

Falcon   at  ^  "^ 

Bietsoe,  particularly  in  Bunyan,  whose  native  village, 

August  1838.  Elstow,  is  distant  barely  a  mile.  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress  was  one  of  his  favourite  books.  *  Next 
to  the  Bible  parables,'  says  he,  'I  believe  John  Bunyan 
remains  the  most  effective  preacher  among  the  poor  to 
this  day.'^  Bedford  was  then  not  half  its  present  size. 
Browne's  house,  now  some  distance  from  the  fields,  was 
on  the  edge  of  the  town.  A  large  portion  of  the  east  side 
of  the  High  Street  formed  the  boundary  of  a  spacious 
garden,  and  sombre  trees  cast  their  shadows  on  the  pave- 
ment. The  Grove  and  Grove  Place  were,  in  nature  as 
well  as  name,  sylvan  ways — of  which  now  remain  here  a 
few  yews  and  there  a  chestnut.    The  old  Grammar  School, 

^  Preface  to  Polotiius. 
162 


CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  153 

though  converted  to  other  uses,  still  stands.  It  is  an  un- 
pretentious building,  with  a  dismal  figure  of  Sir  William 
Harpur,  roll  in  hand,  in  a  niche,  on  its  front.  A 
row  of  shops  screened  St.  Paul's  Church  from  the  High 
Street,  and  the  picturesque  front  of  the  Pre-Reformation 
old  George  Inn  was  not  the  only  ancient  house  in  that 
thoroughfare.  The  four  ancient  churches  of  the  town 
present  much  the  same  appearance  now  as  then.  The 
liliputian  St.  Cuthbert's  Church  had  not  yet  given  place 
to  the  present  edifice  ;  Trinity  Church  was  building  ; 
Bunyan  Meeting  was  a  quaint  structure,  with  three  gables 
in  a  row. 

'  Fitz,'  writes  Spedding,  '  is  on  his  way  to  Bedford,  in  a 
state  of  disgraceful  indifference  to  everything  except  grass 
and  fresh  air.  What  will  become  of  him  (in  this  world)  ? ' 
A  favourite  haunt  of  Browne  and  FitzGerald  was  '  The 
Falcon '  at  Bletsoe,  a  village  eight  miles  north  of  the 
town,  to  which  they  generally  drove  in  a  morning  with 
their  fishing-rods.  FitzGerald,  however,  who  never  went 
without  his  colour-box,  painted  more  pictures  than  he 
caught  fish  ;  and  wished  nothing  better  than  to  lie  at  his 
ease  under  some  gnarled  willow  among  the  rich  red  spires 
of  loosestrife,  and  within  view  of  the  gently  rocking  water- 
lilies.  Usually  they  fished  for  perch  and  pike.  When 
they  went  after  the  bream,  they  had  to  be  at  Bletsoe  while 
the  dew  was  still  heavy  on  the  grass,  and  get  their  fishing 
over,  or  the  better  part  of  it,  by  breakfast-time.  Bletsoe 
boasts  a  picturesque  church  and  a  ruined  castle,  but  it 
was  the  river  rather  than  the  antiquities  that  attracted 
FitzGerald.  'The  inn,'  says  he,  'is  the  cleanest,  the 
sweetest,  the  civillest,  the  quietest,  the  loveliest,  and  the 
cheapest  that  ever  was  built  or  conducted.  On  one  side 
it  has  a  garden,  then  the  meadows  through  which  winds 
the  Ouse  :  on  the  other,  the  public  road,  with  its  coaches 

VOL.  I.  G 


154         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

hurrying  on  to  London  ;  its  market  people  halting  to 
drink,  its  farmers,  horsemen,  and  foot  travellers.  So,  as 
one's  humour  is,  one  can  have  whichever  phase  of  life  one 
pleases  :  quietude  or  bustle,  solitude  or  the  busy  hum  of 
men.  One  can  sit  in  the  principal  room  with  a  tankard 
and  a  pipe,  and  see  both  these  phases  at  once  through  the 
windows  that  open  upon  either.'^  Browne's  fondness  for 
rod,  scarlet  coat,  and  buckskins  led  FitzGerald  to  write — 

'  Heaven  would  answer  all  your  wishes, 
Were  it  much  as  earth  is  here  ; 
Flowing  rivers  full  of  fishes, 

And  good  hunting  half  the  year.' 

After  tea  at  the  Falcon  and  a  song — frequently  *  Bobby 
Shafto  's  gone  to  Sea ' — they  would  walk  leisurely  home 
through  Milton  Ernest,  by  the  massive  church  tower  of 
Clapham,  past  '  The  Angler's  Rest'  (less  easy  to  get  by), 
and  so,  whistling  towards  Bedford,  down  the  same  hill  that 
R.  L.  Stevenson's  St.  Ives  and  Dudgeon  danced  so 
merrily  ;  whilst  the  cry  of  the  corncrake  in  the  meadow 
mingled  with  the  peevish  call  of  the  plover  circling  over 
the  cornfield,  and  the  westering  sun  in  a  sea  of  violet, 
grey,  and  silver  made  spindle-legged  silhouettes  of  them 
on  road  and  bank.  '  Those  Bedfordshire  villages ! ' 
They  were  FitzGerald's  dear  delight.  Bletsoe,  Sharn- 
brook,  Keysoe,  Turvey,  Goldington — the  very  thought 
of  them  sent  the  blood  singing  through  his  veins. 

During  this  visit  to  Bedford,   FitzGerald  presented  to 

Browne  a  copy  of  a  work  with  whose  contents  he  had 

46  'Gode-        been  exceedingly  struck,  and  which  he  had 

fridus'and        pondered    deeply,    namely     Godefridiis  —  the 

eysoe.  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^  Kenelm  Henry  Digby's  -   book 

The  Broad  Stone  of  Honour — his  reason  for  making  the 

1  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  74.     Quoted  by  permission  of  Messrs.  Macmillan. 
*  Kenelm  Henry  Digby,  born  iSoo,  died  22nd  March  1880. 


< 


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CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  157 

gift  being,  as  he  afterwards  said,  because  page  89 
and  the  following  pages  seemed  to  delineate  the  character 
of  Browne.^  On  the  fly-leaf  he  wrote,  '  W.  Browne  from 
E.  F.  G.,  '*sed  tu  noli  deficere :  quod  ille  quaerit,  tu 
esto  " — St.  August.'  Digby's  book  (the  copy  given  to 
Browne  is  in  grey -coloured  boards)  is  a  'philosophic 
history  of  chivalry ' — '  a  history  of  heroic  times,  arranged 
chiefly  with  a  view  to  convey  lessons  of  surviving  and 
perpetual  interest  to  the  generous  part  of  mankind.'  Its 
style  probably  influenced  FitzGerald's  prose  more  than 
that  of  any  other  work.  For  example,  the  first  section  of 
Godefridus  and  the  last  few  paragraphs  of  Euphranor 
might  have  been  written  by  the  same  man  ;  and  practi- 
cally Euphranor  is  a  blend  of  the  substance  of  this  book 
and  the  personal  traits  of  W.  Kenworthy  Browne.  The 
passages  which  in  FitzGerald's  opinion  were  applicable 
to  Browne  are  the  following  :  '  Chivalry  is  only  a  name 
for  that  general  spirit  or  state  of  mind  which  disposes 
men  to  heroic  and  generous  actions,  and  keeps  them 
conversant  with  all  that  is  beautiful  and  sublime  in 
the  intellectual  world.  .  .  .  Every  boy  and  youth  [and 
FitzGerald  maintained  that  Browne  was  always  young] 
is,  in  his  mind  and  sentiments,  a  knight,  and  essentially 
a  son  of  chivalry.  Nature  is  fine  in  him.'  'There  is  no 
difference,'  says  the  philosopher,  'between  youthful  age 
and  youthful  character  ;  and  what  this  is,  cannot  be  better 
evinced  than  in  the  very  words  of  Aristotle  :  "  The  young 
are  ardent  in  desire,  and  what  they  do  is  from  affection  ; 
they  are  tractable  and  delicate  ;  they  earnestly  desire  and 
are  quickly  appeased  ;  their  wishes  are  intense,  without 

^  It  is  curious  to  note  that  this  copy  of  Godefridus  contains  besides  a  small 
allegorical  vignette  on  the  title-page  only  one  illustration — namely  a  picture  of 
two  naked  horsemen  (Greek  evidently),  the  front  one  of  whom  is  turning  round 
and  flourishing  a  whip.  It  was  a  similar  action  on  the  part  of  one  of  Browne's 
friends  that  led  to  Browne's  premature  death.     See  chapter  xiii. 


158  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

comprehending  much  ;  .  .  .  they  are  passionate  and  hasty, 
and  liable  to  be  surprised  by  anger ;  for,  being  ambitious 
of  honour,  they  cannot  endure  to  be  despised  ;  .  .  .  they 
love  honour,  but  still  more  victory  ;  .  .  .  they  are  sanguine 
in  hope,  for,  like  persons  who  are  drunk  with  wine,  they 
are  inflamed  by  nature  ;  •  .  .  they  live  by  hope,  for  hope 
is  of  the  future,  but  memory  of  the  past,  and  to  youth  the 
future  is  everything,  the  past  but  little  ;  they  hope  all 
things  and  remember  nothing ;  .  .  .  they  have  lofty  souls ; 
.  .  .  they  live  by  affection  rather  than  by  reason  ;  .  .  . 
they  are  warm  friends  and  hearty  companions  ;  .  .  .  they 
chiefly  err  in  doing  all  things  overmuch,  for  they  keep 
no  medium  ;  .  .  .  they  are  full  of  mercy,  because  they 
regard  all  men  as  good,  and  more  virtuous  than  they 
are,  for  they  measure  others  by  their  own  innocence.'" 
Indeed,  the  moral  of  the  book  is  'keep  young.'  The 
whole  of  this  passage  of  Aristotle,  as  quoted  in  Digby's 
GodefriduSy  is  given  in  Euphrano?',  which  is  simply  and 
solely  a  glorification  of  W.  K.  Browne,  and  a  pressing 
home  to  the  youth  of  England  of  the  lessons  to  be  learned 
from  his  breezy  and  strenuous  life.  FitzGerald's  intense 
admiration  for  Browne  would  beJncregibl£.-tii-,ariyLone~who 
was  not  minutely  acquainted  with  the  facts.  To  him 
B rowlie"was  at  once_J[onathan,  Gamaliel,  Apollo^jhe 
friend,  the  master,  the  god — there  was  scarcely  a  limit  to 
his  devotion  and  admiration  ;  and  literary  history  offers 
no  paraUpnri  the  rr>nji|rirhirp. 

And  how  did  Browne,  *  Phidippus  '  ^  (for  Phidippus  is 
Browne),  'my  Master,'  receive  all  this  incense?  Just  as 
one  might  expect  that  an  honest,  warm-hearted,  practical 
and  sensible  man  would.  He  devotedly  loved  his  friend, 
and  gave  him  such  welcomes  at  Bedford  as  satisfied  even 
Edward  FitzGerald  ;  attributed  all  the  virtues  that  he  was 

'  In  EuphranoTt 


CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  159 

accredited  with  to  a  friend's  partiality,  and  quietly  assumed 
that  in  every  matter  FitzGerald  was  a  more  competent 
authority  than  himself.  More  than  all,  he  received  with- 
out retort  the  unkind  and  acrimonious  sayings  which 
FitzGerald  sometimes  inflicted  upon  him.  No  other  man 
would  have  uttered  them  with  impunity.  Of  these  dis- 
plays of  pique,  peevishness,  and  temper  FitzGerald  never 
failed  to  repent  speedily,  and  with  moist  eyes.  *  I  hate 
myself  for  them,'  he  would  say. 

Sometimes  the  excursions  of  FitzGerald  and  Browne 
extended  to  the  'uncouthly  named  town  of  Biggleswade,'^ 
and  to  Keysoe,  of  which  village  FitzGerald's  Bury  and 
Cambridge  friend,  the  Rev.  William  Airy,  brother  of 
the  Astronomer- Royal,  was  vicar ;  ^  and  occasionally 
they  indulged  in  pistol  practice,  FitzGerald  using  oak- 
trees  as  targets,  and  generally  missing  at  ten  yards.  At 
Keysoe  he  used  to  sing  remarkable  and  old-fashioned 
songs — picked  up  in  the  British  Museum  and  elsewhere 
— accompanying  himself  on  the  piano.     One  began — 

'  Like  Macedon's  madman  my  cup  1  '11  enjoy ' ; 

and  another — 

'  The  stwuns,  the  stwuns,' 

though  what  stones  they  were  my  informant,  the  Rev. 
Basil  Airy,2  son  of  FitzGerald's  friend,  cannot  recollect. 
*I  remember,'  continues  Mr.  Airy,  'his  being  at  Keysoe 
when  there  was  a  general  Fast  Day,  and  my  childish 
surprise  at  seeing  him  go  off  for  a  walk  with  a  pipe  in 
his  mouth  while  we  were  all  starting  for  church.'  On 
the  west  front  of  Keysoe  church  is  a  very  odd  inscrip- 

^  FitzGerald. 

*  Presented  in    1836.      He  was  also  Rector  of  Swynshed,  four  miles  from 
Keysoe,  Rural  Dean  and  Domestic  Chaplain  to  the  Duke  of  Manchester. 
^  Vicar  of  St.  John's,  Torquay. 


i6o  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

tion  which  FitzGerald  often  used  to  quote  with  unction. 
It  commemorates  the  preservation  of  the  Hfe  of  WilHam 
Dickens,  who,  on  17th  April  17 18,  'when  he  was  point- 
ing the  steepol,'  fell  'from  the  rige  of  the  middle  window 
in  the  spiar  over  the  south-west  pinackel,'  and  when  he 
was  falling  called  out  to  his  brother,  '  Lord,  Daniel, 
wot 's  the  matter ! '  ^  The  good  man  lived  over  forty 
years  after  this  accident. 

Another  of  FitzGerald's  haunts  was  Sharnbrook,  one 
of  the  visits  to  which  is  described  so  pleasantly  in  the 
preface  to  Poloniits.  'I  had  started,'  says  he,  'one  fine 
October  morning  on  a  ramble  through  the  villages  that 
lie  beside  the  Ouse.  In  high  health  and  cloudless  spirits, 
one  regret  perhaps  hanging  upon  the  horizon  of  the 
heart,  I  walked  through  Sharnbrook  up  the  hill,  and 
paused  by  the  church  on  the  summit  to  look  about  me. 
The  sun  shone,  the  clouds  flew,  the  yellow  trees  shook 
in  the  wind,  the  river  rippled  in  breadths  of  light  and 
dark ;  rooks  and  daws  wheeled  and  cawed  aloft  in  the 
changing  spaces  of  blue  above  the  spire  ;  the  church- 
yard all  still  in  the  sunshine  below.' 

Woburn  Abbey — the  Duke  of  Bedford's  place — Fitz- 
Gerald found  little  to  his  taste.  He  appreciated  the 
pictures,  especially  the  Canalettos,  but  preferred  an  old 
squire's  gabled  house  as  much  more  English  and  aristo- 
cratic than  the  Duke's  establishment.  Luton  Hoo,  Lord 
Bute's  mansion,  with  its  splendid  library,  grand  hall 
supported  by  Ionic  columns,  and  chapel  with  Gothic 
wainscotting  and  carved  ceiling,  pleased  him  better,^ 
and  he  afterwards  dreamt  of  the  fine  pictures  there. 
Indeed,  he  and  Browne  went  picture-hunting  in  all  direc- 

^  See  Appendix. 

2  Three  years  later,  November  1843,  Luton  Hoo  was  destroyed  by  fire.     The 
chapel  was  utterly  ruined,  but  the  pictures  and  other  valuables  were  saved. 


CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  i6i 

tions,  and  if  one  made  a  present  to  the  other  it  was 
almost  sure  to  be  an  oil  painting.  Much,  however,  as 
he  enjoyed  these  excursions  in  the  sleepy  villages  by 
the  Ouse,  FitzGerald  *  began  to  have  dreadful  suspicions  ' 
that  this  fruitless  way  of  life  was  *  not  looked  upon  with 
satisfaction  by  open  eyes  above,'  though  Keats's  words 
might  then  have  given  him  some  comfort — 

'  He  who  saddens 
At  thought  of  idleness  cannot  be  idle.' 

Still  it  was  evident  that  life  ought  not  to  be  all  leather 

breeches  and  fishing-rod. 

The  happier  he  was  at  Bedford  with  Browne  the  more 

unpleasant  he  found  the  parting,   and   perhaps   he   was 

thinking   of  this    when    he    copied    into    his     „   .^t 

°  '^  47.  At  Lowe- 

Museum   Book,   '  So  good  disport  you  have   stoft  with 

made  me,  against  my  wille  I  take  my  leve.'  '■°^"^- 
At  any  rate,  on  this  occasion  he  put  off  the  evil  day  as 
long  as  possible  by  taking  his  friend  away  with  him  to 
Lowestoft.  They  amused  themselves  with  boating,  going 
about  with  '  Dickymilk '  and  FitzGerald's  other  sailor 
friends,  teaching  '  Bletsoe '  ^  to  fetch  and  carry,  and  shoot- 
ing gulls.  If  they  did  little  good,  at  any  rate  they  did 
no  harm,  and  when  their  consciences  pricked  them  they 
found  what  comfort  they  could  in  Browne's  dictum  that 
it  is  better  to  repent  of  what  is  undone  than  what  is 
done.  FitzGerald's  comment  was  :  '  All  this  must  have 
an  end  ;  and  as  is  usual,  my  pleasure  in  his  [Browne's] 
stay  is  proportionately  darkened  by  the  anticipation  of 
his  going,  .  .  .  Well,  Carlyle  told  us  that  we  are  not 
to  expect  to  be  happy.'  After  Bedford,  Woodbridge, 
where  there   *  was   no   river   Ouse   and    no  jolly  boy  to 

^  This  dog,  a  big  black  retriever,  was  a  present  from  Browne  to  FitzGerald. 
FitzGerald  named  it  after  the  Bedfordshire  village  of  Bletsoe. 


i62  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

whistle  the  time  away  with,'  seemed  painfully  dull.  In 
writing  to  Pollock  of  the  little  disasters  and  miseries 
under  which  he  laboured  in  Suffolk,  he  says,  '  This 
all  comes  of  having  no  occupation  or  sticking-point.' 
But  life  through  he  bemoaned  his  lack  of  enforced 
occupation,  and  repeatedly  declared  that  no  one  who  is 
not  employed  can  be  really  happy. 

About  this  time  FitzGerald  met  Frederick  Denison 
Maurice,  whom  he  heard  preach.  'Maurice,'  observes 
FitzGerald  to  Allen,  '  seems  to  say  in  his  demeanour, 
"You  may  trample  on  my  body,  I  lay  it  on  the  road  for 
you  to  walk  over."  ' 

The  agent  of  the  Boulge  Hall  estate  and  principal 
tenant  was  Mr.  Job  Smith  of  *  Hall  Farm,'  on  whom 
FitzGerald  used  often  to  call,  while  the  farmer's  little  son 
Alfred  would  waddle  up  and  play  with  'Bletsoe.'  Fitz- 
Gerald took  to  the  boy  as  he  grew  older  and  was  very 
kind  to  him,  often  making  him  presents — sometimes, 
however,  creating  embarrassment  as  well  as  gratitude,  as, 
for  example,  when  he  once  gave  him  half  a  crown  to  buy 
so  cheap  a  toy  as  a  ball. 

In  the  autumn  of  1838  or  earlier  FitzGerald  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Samuel  Lawrence  the  portrait-painter, 
g  s  mu  I  who  was  subsequently  indebted  to  him  for 
Lawrence  and  several  commissions,  one  of  the  first  being 
a  portrait  of  Browne.  He  talks  to  Lawrence 
about  going  to  Italy,  but  the  proposed  visit  never  came 
off,  for  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  infinitely  preferred  Suffolk 
turnips  to  Campania  lemons,  and  Naseby  to  Naples.  He 
still  applied  himself  to  drawing  and  painting,  and  got 
many  hints  on  collecting,  and  some  on  technique  from  his 
new  friend,  whom  he  describes  as  '  a  dear  little  fellow — 
a  gentleman — made  of  nature's  very  finest  clay — the  most 
obstinate  little  man — incorrigible,  who  wearies  out  those 


CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  163 

who  wish  most  to  serve  and  employ  him,  and  so  spoils 
his  own  fortune.'  Spedding  spoke  of  Lawrence  as  a 
portrait-painter  of  real  genius  and  worthy  of  all  men's 
love.  *  His  advantages  of  education  were  such  as  it 
pleased  God  (who  was  never  particular  about  giving  His 
favourite  children  a  good  education)  to  send  him.' 

In  April  1839  FitzGerald  is  again  at  Geldestone,  and  he 
writes  to  tell  John  Allen,  who  is  living  in  London  (Coram 
Street),  how  he  had  spent  one  very  happy  day.  All  the 
morning  he  had  been  lying  full  length  on  a  garden  bench 
in  the  sun  reading  about  Nero,  in  Tacitus.  *  A  funny 
mixture  all  this  :  Nero,  and  the  delicacy  of  Spring  :  all 
very  human,  however.  Then  at  half-past  one  lunch  on 
Cambridge  cream  cheese  ;  then  a  ride  over  hill  and  dale  ; 
then  spudding  up  some  weeds  from  the  grass  ;  and  then 
coming  in,  I  sit  down  to  write  to  you,  my  sister  winding 
red  worsted  from  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  the  most 
delightful  little  girl  in  the  world  chattering  incessantly. 
So  runs  the  world  away.  You  think  I  live  in  Epicurean 
ease  ;  but  this  happens  to  be  a  jolly  day  :  one  isn't  always 
well  or  tolerably  good,  the  weather  is  not  always  clear, 
nor  nightingales  singing,  nor  Tacitus  full  of  pleasant 
atrocity.'^  'Give  my  love  to  Thackeray,'  he  goes  on, 
'from  your  upper  window  across  the  street.' 

As  we  have  seen,  FitzGerald  had  for  some  time  been  in 
love  with  Miss  Caroline  Crabbe,-  eldest  daughter  of  his 
friend,  and  they  were  very  often  in  each  other's        ^    _ 

'  -^  ■'  49.  In  Love 

company.      The  lady,   however,  after  a  time    with  Miss 

came  to  the  conclusion    that  marriage  with    crabbe! 

FitzGerald   would    not   be    prudent.      What   'Bredfieid 

her  actual  reason  was  we  do  not  know.     A 

profoundly    pious   girl,    it   is    possible    that    FitzGerald's 

'  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  60.    Quoted  by  permission  of  Messrs,  Macmillan. 
2  Tliese  statements,  whichi  are  all  new,  are  founded  on  most  trustworthy 
authority. 


i64  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

agnosticism  may  have  troubled  her  ;  but  the  reason  given, 
I  am  told,  was  that  as  she  was  the  eldest  of  a  large  family, 
it  would  not  be  right  for  her  to  leave  home.  FitzGerald 
felt  the  refusal  very  keenly,  though  doubtless  it  was 
worded  in  the  kindest  possible  way,  and  it  was  whilst 
suffering  under  this  blow  that  he  wrote  those  charming 
and  realistic  though  mournful  lines  entitled  *  Bredfield 
Hall.' 

He  refers  to  the  well-timbered  lawn  and  gardens,  the 
distant  sea  and  the  solemn  surrounding  woods,  and  recalls 
the  bygone  owners  and  guests — the  knight  in  ruff  and 
doublet,  and  the  cavalier — 

'  Languid  beauties  limn'd  by  Lely, 

FuU-wigg'd  Justice  of  Queen  Anne, 
Tory  squires  that  tippled  freely, 
And  the  modern  gentleman.' 

Here  they  gathered  round  its  hospitable  fires — 

'Till  the  bell  that  not  in  vain 

Had  summoned  them  to  weekly  prayer, 
Called  them  one  by  one  again 
To  the  church  and  left  them  there.' 

Almost  every  stanza  contains  beauties  and  felicities  of 
expression.  The  'gilded  vanes  still  veering,' the  crocus 
breaking  the  mould,  and  the  coat  of  paint  and  plaster 
hiding  the  wrinkles  of  decay,  give  us  almost  as  vivid  a 
picture  of  the  old  mansion  and  its  surroundings  as  was 
possessed  by  the  writer,  whose  youth  was  *  buried  there ' 
— a  reference  to  his  disappointment  in  love.  Although 
Miss  Crabbe  could  not  marry  FitzGerald,  she  continued 
to  be  his  friend,  and,  as  will  be  seen,  was  at  her  brother's 
house  when  FitzGerald  died  there. 

John  Allen  was  this  year  made  Inspector  of  Schools, 
the  commission  being  a  roving  one  for  the  whole  of 
England  and  Wales. 


CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  165 

In  October  1839  FitzGerald  and  Browne  took  a  trip 
to  Ireland,  and  visited  Dublin.  Dublin  was  attractive 
enough  even  in  those  days,  with  its  quayed 

.^  ,         .,         •         ,  J  1  so.  In  Ireland 

river,  its  parks,  its  circular  road,  and  memo-   "^^^^  -^  ^ 
ries  of  Goldsmith,  Swift,  and  Stella.^      The   Browne, 

r-i  11-  IT  -iTTi      October  1839. 

friends  made  their  stay  at  the  Imperial  Hotel, 
and  often  recalled  the  hours  spent  together  there.  From 
Dublin  they  go  by  coach  and  jaunting-car  to  Halvers- 
town,  Kilcullen,  '  a  little  town  that  tumbles  down  a  hill 
and  struggles  up  another,'  in  Kildare.  There  they  are 
the  guests  of  Mr.  Peter  Purcell,  FitzGerald's  uncle,  sub- 
sequently beloved  of  Thackeray,  who  said  of  the  Purcell 
family,  '  Such  people  are  not  to  be  met  with  more  than 
a  few  times  in  a  man's  life — nothing  but  laughter  and 
sunshine  from  morning  till  night.' ^  While  they  are 
amusing  themselves  among  the  round  towers,  ancient 
crosses,  the  '  clane-skinned  girls '  and  '  dacent  boys '  of 
Mr.  Purcell's  farm  (he  employed  110  persons),  Browne 
is  suddenly  summoned  back  to  Bedford,  but  FitzGerald 
continues  his  stay,  spending  his  time  reading  Homer's 
Iliad  and  De  Ouincey's  paper  on  Southey  and  others 
in  Tail's  Magazine.  He  hears  of  the  publication  of 
Carlyle's  Essays,  ^  and  he  hopes,  after  returning  to 
England,  to  read  them.  He  dearly  loved  Ireland,  with 
its  suggestion  of  Spain,  and  declared  prettily  that  the  airs 
of  Moore's  Irish  Ballads  are  the  spirits  of  its  beautiful 
women  made  into  music. 

After  observing  that  when  at  Geldestone  he  lived 
quietly,  FitzGerald  says  :  '  People  affect  to  talk  of  this 
life   as  very   beautiful   and    philosophical,    but    I    don't : 

^  There  is  a  monument  to  Swift  and  Stella  in  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral, 

2  Irish  Sketch- Book,  chap.  ii.  (Biog.   Ed.,  vol.  v.  p.  292),  where  there  is  an 

amusing  description  of  Mr.  Purceli's  home  and  family. 

^  Critical  and  Miscellaneous  Essays,   collected   and   republished  (4   vols.) 

1839. 


i66  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

men  ought  to  have  an  ambition  to  stir  and  travel.'^ 
Elsewhere  he  calls  his  besetting  indolence  the  salient 
feature  about  him,  and  confesses  that  he 
stone,  j!  H.'  himself  and  nobody  else  is  blamable  for  his 
Newman,  inaction  and  its  evil  consequences.      '  But  I 

April  1840.  ,  J  ,      J  1  ,.  -^  J   J- 

have  made  my  bed  and  must  lie  on  it,  and  die 
on  it.'-  He  does  not  excuse  himself  even  on  the  ground 
that  indolence  is  the  family  complaint  ;  and  he  speaks  of 
his  sister  Andalusia's  desire  to  exert  herself  as  '  the 
highest  wish  a  FitzGerald  can  form.'  However,  he 
finds  comfort  in  Herodotus — tremendously  interesting  if 
'slippery  and  mendacious,'  and  Newman's  Sermons  ;  and 
it  is  with  a  passage  from  Newman  that  he  closes  one  of 
his  commonplace  books  :  '  One  secret  act  of  self-denial, 
one  sacrifice  of  inclination  to  duty,  is  worth  all  the  mere 
good  thoughts,  warm  feelings,  passionate  prayers  in  which 
idle  people  indulge  themselves ' — a  passage  which,  from 
the  fact  that  the  place  and  the  exact  time  of  entering  it 
(Geldestone,  April  26,  1840  ;  Sunday  evening,  half-past 
nine  o'clock)  are  recorded,  evidently  entered  deeply  into 
FitzGerald's  soul.  This  passage  is  also  quoted  in 
Polonius. 

At  the  beginning  of  June,  FitzGerald  is  at  Leamington, 
where  he  chances  on  Alfred  Tennyson.  They  ^o  excur- 
sions together,  visiting  Kenilworth  Castle  (Sir  Walter 
Scott  was  a  never-failing  loadstone)  and  Stratford-on-Avon, 
where  FitzGerald  is  more  moved  by  the  old  footpath 
leading  to  Shottery — so  often  trodden  by  Shakespeare — 
than  by  the  house,  or  even  Shakespeare's  tomb. 

The  earlier  portion  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  the 
golden  age  of  'Annuals,'  which  were  generally  collec- 
tions of  verse  by  a  number  of  hands,  and  were  issued 
both    by    London    and    country   booksellers.      Thus  we 

^  Letters  (Macmillan).  *  Unpublished  letter. 


CHIEFLY  BEDFORD  167 

hear  of  the  Literary  Souvenir^  edited  by  Alaric  A.  Watts  ; 
Raiii's  Pocket-Book,  and  many  others.  A  pubHcation 
of  this  order  was  the  Sudbury  Pocket-Book,  ^,2.  'Chrono- 
first  issued  by  George  W.  Fulcher^  in  1825,  moros.' 
Fulcher  himself,  Bernard  Barton,  and  other  Suffolk 
men  contributing.  A  selection  from  these  Pocket-Books 
was  published  in  1841  under  the  name  of  Fulcher' s 
Ladies'  Memorandum  -  Book  and  Poetical  Miscellany, 
The  contributions  included  an  unsigned  poem  called 
'  Chronomoros,'  by  FitzGerald,  but  in  which  number 
of  the  Pocket-Book  it  appeared  we  have  not  been  able 
to  discover.  Its  subject,  the  evanescence  of  human  life, 
was  one  that  constantly  haunted  FitzGerald's  mind,  and 
had  Jhe  eff^ct-nat  of  ■a^mulating^Jiim  to  greater  activity, 
but  of   bei2jLimbing_Jiim    and  jnaking^  him   ask   himself 


whether   there  was    really  anjy_juse^in    doing   anything. 

His  Jjff  i'^  ^  ^nrrgssiruw^f^^        eadi^-strfted^ere^  half- 

uttered  ;  fox  the  _uselessness  even  of  sighingjsIaiLevrdent 

to  hini_.as._thereason  for  it.     He  was  more  apt  to  cry 

Eheu  fugaces  than   Carpe  diem.      The  poem  is  prefaced 

by  a  passage  from  his  favourite  Owen  Feltham  :   '  In  all 

the  actions  that  a  man   performs,  some  part  of  his  life 

passeth.  .  .  .  Nay,  though  we  do  nothing.  Time  keeps 

his  constant  pace — whether  we  play  or  labour,  or  sleep 

or  dance,  or  study,  the  sun  posteth,  and  the  sand  runnes.' 

The  writer  is  represented  as  making  various  attempts 

to  prevent  Time   from  flying,   and   at   last  smashes  his 

hour-glass,  breaks  his  watch,  and  hides  his  sundial  under 

a  cloak — 

'"Now,"  I  shouted  aloud,  "Time  is  done," 
When  suddenly  down  went  the  sun  ; 
And  I  found  to  my  cost  and  my  pain, 
I  might  buy  a  new  hour-glass  again  ! ' 

^  George  W.  Fulcher  (1795-1855)-  He  wrote  some  touching  lines  entitled 
'The  Dying  Child,'  'The  Village  Paupers,'  and  commenced  a  Life  of  Gains- 
borough which  was  completed  by  his  son  E.  S.  Fulcher. 


i68         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Nay,  whatever  we  do,  time  will  go  on,  and  all  are 
treated  alike — 

'The  king  in  a  carriage  may  ride, 
And  the  beggar  may  crawl  at  his  side  ; 
But,  in  the  general  race, 
They  are  travelling  all  the  same  pace.' 

Among  the  contributors  to  this  volume  besides  Fitz- 
Gerald  were  Mrs.  Fulcher,  whose  poems  Mrs.  Edward 
FitzGerald  used  to  speak  of  as  'very  beautiful,'  Bernard 
Barton  and  Miss  Elizabeth  Charlesworth  (subsequently 
Mrs.  Edward  Cowell,  FitzGerald's  correspondent  and 
friend),  who  signs  herself  author  of  Historical  Reveries. 


CHAPTER    VII 

NASEBY    EXCAVATIONS 
JULY  184I — JULY  1844 

FitzGerald  now  purchases  more  pictures  and  concocts 
tar-water — to  be  tried  first  on  the  vain  and  ruddy  Mrs.  Faire. 
He  writes  to  his  old  Cambridge  acquaintance 

_,,  ,      ,  1       n/r  r    S3'  ^°  Ireland 

W .    H.   Thompson    (subsequently   Master   or   again,  July 

Trinity),  sending-  remembrances  to  Blakesley,    ^^^^-   ^^^ 

■'^'  *=  -"     Edgeworths. 

Douglas  Heath,  and  such  other  potentates 
whom  he  knew  before  they  '  assumed  the  purple ' — a 
phrase  stamped  on  his  mind  by  his  recent  study  of 
Gibbon.  June  saw  him  in  Ireland  again,  staying  first 
with  his  uncle,  Mr.  Peter  Purcell  of  Halverstown,  Kil- 
cullen — riding  in  stage-coach  and  jaunting-car ;  and 
afterwards  at  Edgeworthstown,  where  he  is  the  guest  of 
the  'great  Maria,'  who  lives  in  a  country  mansion 
approached  by  an  avenue  of  venerable  trees.  Other 
members  of  the  household  are  her  half-brother  Lovell 
and  Mrs.  Edgeworth,  her  father's  widow,  mother  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's  friend  Frank.  Maria  is  seventy-two,  the  widow 
seventy-four.  The  chief  room  is  the  library,  with  its 
oblong  table  at  one  particular  corner  of  which  the  aged 
authoress  sits  and  writes  undisturbed  by  the  conversation, 
in  which,  looking  up,  she  now  and  again  joins.  Jars  of 
Nankin  china  and  '  shells  from  ocean  knows  where  are 
on  the   mantelpiece.'     She  is  a  lively  and  dapper  little 

169 


I70  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

body,  with  thin,  pale,  and  irregular  features,  and  'grey 
hair  which  shows,  through  her  cap  behind,  but  a  dark 
frisette ' — a  sort  of  *  whippity  stourie '  or  fairy,  '  who 
comes  flying  through  the  window  to  work  marvels'^ — 
dehghting  to  talk  about  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whom  she 
adores,  and  whose  pen  lies  always  before  her.  She  is 
now  owner  of  Edgeworthstown,  bought  (with  a  fortune 
won  by  literature)  of  Lovell,  who,  however,  still  remains 
the  apparent  owner,  just  as  Mrs.  Edgeworth  is  still 
nominal  mistress  of  the  house.  She  gives  FitzGerald— 
'and  all  her  thoughts  were  intent  upon  making  her 
friends  happy  '—a  copy  of  her  '  Frank '  2  in  German  and 
English.  Though  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, she  meets  with  little  sympathy  from  priest  or 
peasant — '  no  bows,  no  touching  of  hats,  no  pleasant 
looks.'  She  sells  a  legacy  of  diamonds  to  build  a 
market-house  in  the  village,  but  she  might  have  kept 
her  diamonds  for  all  the  thanks  she  got.  The  people 
had  no  love  for  Protestant  landholders. 

In  September  (1841)  FitzGerald    is   at  Naseby  again, 

and,  writing  to  F.  Tennyson  in  Italy,  facetiously  addresses 

his  letter  from    'No.  o  Strada  del  Obelisco,' 

54.  strada  del     .  „      .  ,  •  .  ^     , 

ObeUsco.  A  "1  allusion  to  the  situation  of  the  house  of 
Dkkeill!^^  Mr.  Watchams  (formerly  his  mother's  coach- 
man) where  he  was  lodging.  Here  he  reads 
Congreve,  Vanbrugh,  and  Farquhar,  flying  when  tired 
to  an  old  tub  of  a  piano,  the  blacksmith's  forge,  or  to 
tobacco  at  the  FitzGerald  Arms,  or  with  a  tenant  of  his 
father's  named  Love.  Later  he  is  in  London,  where  he 
meets  Allen,  Thackeray,  Spedding,  and  Tennyson.  Of 
Tennyson,  who  is  'finer  in  appearance  than  ever,'  Mrs. 
Carlyle  leaves  us  a  vivid   picture  at  this  time.      'A  tall 

^  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

^  He  many  years  after  presented  it  to  Mr.  Frederick  Spalding. 


NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS  171 

man  leaning  to  a  wall,  with  his  head  touching  the  ceiling 
like  a  caryatid.'  'You  ought  to  be  a  dragoon,'  cries 
FitzGerald  to  him,  '  or  in  some  active  employment  that 
would  keep  your  soul  stirring  instead  of  revolving  in  its 
own  idleness  and  tobacco  smoke.' ^  The  chief  meeting- 
place  of  this  junto  was  now  Spedding's  room  in 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  where  they  would  sit  up  till  mid- 
night smoking,  discussing  Lord  Bacon  with  Spedding, 
or  listening  to  Tennyson's  poems  read  from  a  foolscap 
folio  parchment-bound  book.  As  the  poems  were  written 
towards  one  side  of  the  paper,  they  used  the  unoccupied 
edges  as  pipelights  ;  and  a  few  of  these  leaves  when  they 
returned  with  the  proofs  from  the  printers  were  taken 
possession  of  by  FitzGerald,  who  afterwards  presented 
them  to  the  Library  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  In 
October  (1841)  John  Allen  lost  his  brother  Bird,  com- 
mander of  H.M.S.  Soudan^  in  the  poetical  and  heroic 
Niger  expedition.  For  several  years  Bird  had  been 
engaged  to  FitzGerald's  sister  Andalusia.^  About  this 
time  W.  Kenworthy  Browne  fell  in  love  with  Miss 
Elizabeth  Elliott,  the  beautiful  sixteen  year  old  daughter 
of  Mr.  Robert  Elliott  of  Goldington  Hall,  near  Bedford. 
Browne's  acquaintance  with  her  was  probably  made 
through  her  brother  Robert,  a  comrade  of  his  in  the 
hunting-field  ;  by  and  and  by  they  became  engaged. 

To  this  date  I  assign  a  very  interesting  unpublished 
letter  of  FitzGerald's,  which  refers  to  a  drive  with  Dickens 
— the  only  occasion,  apparently,  on  which  FitzGerald  and 
Dickens  ever  met.  It  is  written  to  Browne,  and  com- 
mences, '  Dear  Stubby.'  After  remarks  that  need  not 
be  quoted,  it  proceeds:  'Alfred  [Tennyson]  is  just  left 
us  in  a  cab  :  he,  like  me,  has  had  and  has  yet  the  damned 
influenza.     To-night  I  go  with  my  mamma  to  the  Opera. 

■■  Life  of  Lord  Tennyson.  '^  Afterwards  Mrs.  De  Soyres. 

VOL.   I.  H 


172  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

We  get  on  very  well  together,  by  help  of  meeting  very 
little.  Lusia  had  her  eyelid  cut  by  Guthrie.  As  to 
your  picture,  I  will  not  send  it  till  Lawrence  has  seen  if 
something  cannot  be  done  to  it.  As  I  have  such 
abundance  of  pictures  I  shall  not  be  solicitous  to  keep 
it  for  myself,  much  as  I  like  it,  that  is,  I  will  leave  it 
quite  to  your  papa's  will  without  saying  a  word.  I  have 
lately  had  a  very  charming  head  by  Reynolds  sent  up 
from  the  country.  You  would  like  it  much.  Give  me 
some  account  of  the  house  you  spoke  of  at  Bedford.' 
(FitzGerald  contemplated  settling  at  Bedford.)  '  Is  there 
any  sitting-room  looking  out  to  the  back?  I  went  on 
Thursday  with  Alfred  and  Thackeray  to  drive  with  Boz. 
He  is  like  Elliott,^  only  rather  on  a  smaller  scale — un- 
affected and  hospitable.  You  never  would  remark  him 
for  appearance.  A  certain  acute  cut  of  the  upper  eyelid 
is  all  I  can  find  to  denote  his  powers,  but  you  would 
doubtless  see  much  more  than  I  do.' 

It  was  this  year  (1841)  that  FitzGerald's  friend  Major 
Moor  published  his  curious  work  An  Account  of  the 
Mysterious  Ringing  of  Bells  at  Great  Beatings,  Suffolk, 
in  1834.  As  there  are  persons  still  living  who  know 
more  about  the  occurrence  than  they  care  to  tell,  we  need 
not  inquire  whether  it  was  due  to  the  agency  of  spirits. 
Though  neighbours  smiled  at  what  they  regarded  as 
one  of  his  many  crotchets,  the  Major,  to  his  dying 
day,  maintained  that  his  '  bells  were  rung  by  no  human 
hand.' 

Some  of  FitzGerald's  best  letters  are  written  to  Frederick 
Tennyson  (eldest  brother  of  Alfred),  '  a  noble  man  in  all 
respects,'  though  haughty  and  passionate,  who  now 
lived  in  Italy,  wrote  monotonous  poetry,  chiefly  sonnets, 
dwelt  in   a  world   of  spirits — Swedenborg's    world — and 

^  Robert  Elliott,  brother  of  the  young  lady  who  became  Browne's  wife. 


NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS  173 

turned  earth  into  heaven  by  sitting  in  his  spacious  hall 

in    the  midst  of  forty  fiddlers.      Another   correspondent 

was  Pierce  Morton — scholar,  artist,  journalist,  „,  c-   ^    •  1 

'  'J  '   55-  Frederick 

etc. — 'that  mad  man  of  genius  Morton' —  Tennyson; 
who  was  chronically  in  need  of  ten  pounds —  ton^'^and  °'^' 
and  travelled  much,  but  delighted  chiefly  in  Cariyie's ' Hero- 
Rome,  in  the  soil  of  which  he  found  some- 
thing glutinous.  FitzGerald,  who  liked  to  hear  about 
foreign  places,  declared  that  he  would  himself  travel  if 
he  had  the  eyes  of  Frederick  and  Morton.  'The  eye,' 
he  says,  quoting  Goethe,  '  can  but  see  what  it  brings 
with  it  the  power  of  seeing.'  So  he  sat  at  home 
under  the  cinereous  skies  of  Suffolk,  dreaming  about 
the  blue  of  Tuscany.  Of  Morton's  letters  he  was 
a  particular  admirer,  and  copied  a  number  of  extracts 
from  them  into  a  commonplace  book.  In  return  he 
had  nothing  new  to  tell  his  distant  friends  except  that 
Carlyle  had  published  'a  raving  book  about  heroes.' 
But  despite  his  condemnation  of  Cariyie's  book  at  the 
first  reading,  its  influence  on  him  was  extraordinary. 
Naturally  a  hero-worshipper,  he  puts  his  friends — and 
especially  W.  K.  Browne — on  higher  pedestals  than 
ever ;  and  this  book  was  certainly  in  a  considerable 
degree  responsible  for  the  apotheosis  of  '  Posh,'  with 
which  we  shall  deal  in  subsequent  chapters.  He  quotes 
Carlyle  in  condonation  of  Posh's  faults.^  He  calls 
Boulge  'Malebolge,'  after  the  '  Malebolge  Pool,'  with 
its  gloomy  circles  that  Carlyle,  handling  Dante,  talks 
so  much  about.  Passage  after  passage  appeals  to  him  ; 
especially  the  declaration  that  '  The  poet  who  could 
merely  sit  on  a  chair  and  compose  stanzas,  would  never 
make   a   stanza   worth   much,'  and    the    reference  to  the 

^  'David,  the  Hebrew  king,  had  fallen  into  sins  enough.  ...  Is  this  your 
man  according  to  God's  heart?' — Hero- Worship,  Lecture  li. 


174  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

dawning  on  Dante  that  he  would  some  day  die/  which 
is  echoed  in  the  preface  to  Polonius.  In  the  body  of 
Poloniiis  he  quotes  in  full  the  fine  passage  in  Lecture  ii. 
answering  the  question,  'What  is  a  man's  religion?' 
together  with  several  other  passages.  Thus  FitzGerald 
was  evidently  a  very  great  admirer  of  a  work  which  he 
is  usually  credited  with  having  regarded  slightingly. 
Let  us  note,  however,  that  he  quotes  with  approval  in 
this  same  Polonius  Carlyle's  saying :  *  The  commonest 
quality  in  a  true  work  of  art,  if  its  excellence  have  any 
depth  and  compass,  is  that  at  first  sight  it  occasions  a 
certain  disappointment.' 

In  December  1841  FitzGerald  is  at  Brighton,  and  in 
January  at  Geldestone  again,  where  he  gets  an  invita- 
56.  In  London,  tion  to  Iccturc  at  the  Ipswich  Mechanics' 
Spring:  1842.  Institution,  on  'any  subject  except  contro- 
versial divinity  and  party  politics ' — a  phrase  which  for 
days  he  rolled  round  his  tongue.  He  pretended  that 
Donne,  who  had  not  been  asked,  was  mad  with  envy  ; 
and  though  he  hoped  to  see  Barton  in  February,  he 
adds,  '  You  need  not,  however,  expect  that  I  can  return 
to  such  familiar  intercourse  as  once  (in  former  days) 
passed  between  us.  New  honours  in  society  have 
devolved  upon  me  the  necessity  of  a  more  dignified 
deportment.'^  From  January  to  April  1842  he  was  in 
London,  visiting  theatres  and  picture-dealers'  shops,  but 
feeling  all  the  time  that  his  life  was  unsatisfactory.  He 
describes  himself  as  living  '  in  a  very  seedy  way,  reading 
occasionally  in  books  which  every  one  else  has  gone 
through  at  school,'  reading,  moreover,  'just  in  the 
same  way  as  ladies  work:  to  pass  the  time  away.'  He 
often  sees  Thackeray,  who  has  just  finished  his  Irish 
Sketch-Book,    and   is   trying   to  get   appointed   editor   of 

1  Hero-  Worships  Lecture  iii.  -  Letters, 


NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS  175 

*  a  new  foreign  review '  projected  by  Chapman  and  Hall. 
Thackeray  thinks  he  could  suit  them,  unless  they  want 
'a  great  man  like  Mr.  Carlyle.'  At  any  rate,  he  knows 
two  languages,  and  is  not  given  to  'deep  philosophising' 
— that  unfortunate  faculty  which  ruined  the  journalistic 
career  of  J.  M.  Kemble.^  Thackeray,  for  his  part,  de- 
lighted to  be  with  FitzGerald,  but  observed,  '  I  am  afraid 
his  society  makes  me  idle  ;  we  sit  and  talk  too  much 
about  books  and  pictures,  and  smoke  too  many  cigars.' 

Later,  FitzGerald  ruralises  first  at  Geldestone,  where 
he  gets  up  at  five  in  the  morning  to  read  Ecclesiasticus, 

and  afterwards  at  Bedford,  where  he  names    „   a^  t,  ^ 

'  57-  At  Bed- 

Browne's    pictures,     writing     down     '  awful   ford,  Yardiey 

calumnies   about   Cuyp  and  others.'      More-   and^Cafue 
over,  they  named  the  subjects  rashly  as  well   Ashby, 

.  .  August  1842. 

as  the  artists — calling  one  '  General  Wolfe ' 
for  no  reason  except  that  he  wore  a  scarlet  coat  and 
looked  brave.  Then  there  was  '  a  little  Crome  cottage ' 
bought  by  FitzGerald  at  Norwich,  and  a  hawking  pic- 
ture, the  finest  FitzGerald  ever  got,  both  apparently 
presents  to  Browne.^ 

From  Bedford  he  makes  trips  with  Browne  and  others 
to  Keysoe,  their  favourite  Bletsoe,  and  through  Turvey 
and  Lavendon  to  Yardiey  Hastings,  in  order  to  see  the 
Marquis  of  Northampton's  seat,^  with  its  Inigo  Jones 
architecture,  Italian  vistas,  and  associations  with  Samuel 
Johnson,  who  at  Easton  Maudit,  close  by,  visited  his 
friend  Dr.  Percy.  FitzGerald  found  fault  with  the 
pictures,  and  took  no  note  of  the  quaint  and  wonderful 
Dutch  tapestry,  but  admired  the  fabric  of  the  house, 
with  the  parapet  balustrade  round  the  roof  carved  into 
the  letters   '  nisi  dominus  custodiat  domum,  frustra 

^  Letter  of  Thackeray,  loth  March  1842. 

-  From  an  unpublished  letter  (undated).  ^  Castle  Ashby. 


176         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

viGiLAT  QUI  CUSTODIT  EAM.'  'This,'  he  observes,  'is 
not  amiss  to  decipher  as  you  come  up  the  long  avenue 
some  summer  or  autumn  day,  and  to  moralise  upon 
afterwards  at  the  little  "Rose  and  Crown"  at  Yardley, 
if  such  good  home-brewed  be  there  as  used  to  be  before 
I  knew  I  was  to  die.'^  Naturally  he  did  not  leave 
Yardley  without  visiting  the  famous  Yardley  Chase  ; 
and  in  his  commonplace  book,  '  Half-Hours  with  the 
Worst  Authors,'"  he  devotes  a  large  space  to  an  abridg- 
ment from  Grantley  Berkeley,  entitled  '  The  View  Hulloa 
of  Yardley  Chase,'  an  anecdote  of  deception  practised 
on  the  writer  by  *a  fine  young  farmer.'  Back  again 
in  Bedford,  more  journeys  were  made  to  the  Bletsoe 
'Falcon,'  this  time  in  company  with  Herr  Teufelsdrockh 
— for  there  is  always  a  copy  of  Sartor  Resartus  sticking 
out  of  FitzGerald's  pocket. 

The  study  of  Sartor  Resartus  not  unnaturally  led  to  a 
desire  to  meet  the  author — a  desire  that  was  realised  on 
S8.  Cariyiein  the  15th  of  September  1842,  when  FitzGerald 
a'Brangie-  called  upon  Carlyle — 'Gurlyle,'  according  to 
Naseby  Thackeray — with  Lawrence  the  artist.     Car- 

Excavations,  lyle,  who  was  engaged  upon  his  Letters  of 
Cromwell,  had  a  little  before,  in  company  with  Dr. 
Arnold,  made  a  journey  to  Naseby  with  a  view  to  going 
over  the  battlefield.  Knowing  the  place  well,  as  was 
natural,  seeing  that  most  of  it  belonged  to  his  father, 
FitzGerald  discovered  that,  misled  by  Naseby's  lying 
bully,  the  obelisk,  Carlyle  and  Dr.  Arnold  had  seen 
nothing,  having  walked  over  what  was  not  the  field  of 
battle  at  all — that,  in  short,  to  use  an  expression  common 
enough    at    Naseby,    Carlyle   was    in   a    '  branglemess.' 

^  Euphra7ior.  Cf.  Carlyle's  Hero- Worship,  Lecture  III.,  which  FitzGerald 
had  just  been  reading.  '  One  day,  it  had  risen  sternly  benign  on  the  scathed 
heart  of  Dante,  that  he  .  .  .  would  full  surely  die,'  etc. 

'^  Afterwards  altered  to  '  Half-Hours  with  Obscure  Authors.' 


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NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS  179 

Though  very  reluctant  to  admit  that  they  had  been 
deceived,  Carlyle  had  no  objection  to  further  evidence  ; 
consequently  FitzGerald,  who  was  just  then  going  to 
Naseby,  resolved  to  settle  the  matter  once  and  for  all. 
Before  he  could  start,  however,  there  came  a  letter  from 
Carlyle  asking  a  number  of  questions,  and  concluding 
with  :  '  On  the  whole,  my  dear  sir,  here  seems  to  be 
work  enough  for  you  !  But,  after  all,  is  it  not  worth  your 
while  on  other  accounts?  Were  it  not  a  most  legitimate 
task  for  the  proprietor  of  Naseby,  a  man  of  scholarship, 
intelligence,  and  leisure,  to  make  himself  completely 
acquainted  with  the  true  state  of  all  details  connected 
with  Naseby  battle  and  its  localities?  Few  spots  of 
ground  in  all  the  world  are  memorabler  to  an  English- 
man. We  could  still  very  well  stand  a  good  little  book 
on  Naseby  !     Verhum  sapienti!  ' 

Before  going  further,  it  will  be  necessary,  if  we  are  to 
understand  the  communications  between  Carlyle  and 
FitzGerald,  to  give  a  very  brief  account  of  what  really 
happened  on  that  famous  14th  of  June  1645.  Fairfax, 
who  had  marched  out  of  Buckinghamshire,  was  joined  at 
Flore,  in  Northamptonshire,  by  Cromwell,  who  had  come 
from  the  eastern  counties  on  12th  June  ;  and  on  the  13th 
they  reached  Naseby  and  took  possession  of  Mill  Hill, 
half  a  mile  north  of  Naseby.  The  king's  army  was  on 
Dust  Hill,  a  rising  parallel  to  Mill  Hill,  about  a  mile 
further  north,  and  divided  from  it  by  a  plain — Broad 
Moor.  The  battle  began  at  ten  on  the  morning  of  the 
14th.  Prince  Rupert,  who  led  the  right  wing  of  the 
king's  army,  charged  across  Broad  Moor  and  up  Rutput 
and  Fenny  Hills,  fired  upon,  as  he  passed,  by  Colonel 
Okey  and  his  dragoons  hidden  in  Lantford  Hedges,  a 
thicket  which  ran  northward  at  right  angles  to  these 
hills.    He  reached  the  Parliament's  left  wing  under  Ireton 


i8o  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

and  Skippon,  and  put  them  to  flight.  Ireton,  whose 
horse  was  shot  under  him,  and  who  was  wounded  in  the 
thigh  and  in  the  face,  was  taken  prisoner,  and  the 
CavaHers  then  made  for  the  Parliament's  baggage,  which 
was  under  the  protection  of  firelocks  close  to  the  village. 
In  the  meantime  the  Parliament's  right  wing  under 
Cromwell  had  charged  down  Mill  Hill  on  to  the  king's 
left  under  Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale,  who  fled  through 
the  furze  in  the  direction  of  Dust  Hill  and  Longhold 
Spinnies.  The  Parliament's  centre,  under  Fairfax,  which 
was  opposed  by  the  king  in  person,  now  wavered  and 
*  mostly  all  fled.'  The  officers,  however,  snatched  the 
colours  and  fell  into  the  reserves  with  them.  The 
reserves  rushed  on,  and  others,  encouraged  by  Crom- 
well's success  on  the  right,  rallying  to  them,  they 
attacked  the  Cavaliers  vigorously,  and  drove  them  pell- 
mell  down  the  hill.  At  Dust  Hill  the  king  made  a  final 
attempt  to  rally  his  flying  forces,  but  in  vain,  and 
they  fled  in  panic  towards  Harborough.  Not  until  he 
had  reached  the  baggage  did  Rupert  discover  that  the 
rest  of  the  king's  army  was  being  repulsed.  He  then 
hastened  to  render  help,  but  too  late.  The  battle  was 
irretrievably  lost.  The  number  of  slain  is  unknown,  but 
five  thousand  were  taken  prisoners.  When  the  battle 
was  found  to  be  going  against  the  king,  Ireton  offered 
his  keeper  pardon  in  return  for  freedom,  and  so  got 
released. 

On  arriving  at  Naseby,  FitzGerald  had  spade  and 
mattock  taken  to  a  spot  some  considerable  distance  from, 
the  'Blockhead  Obelisk,'  a  spot  on  a  hill  'pitted  with 
hollows  and  overgrown  with  rank  vegetation,'  where, 
according  to  the  blacksmith,  the  principal  local  autho- 
rity, many  of  the  slain  lay.  On  opening  one  of  the 
hollows  this  declaration  was  proved  true,  for  there  lay 


NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS  i8i 

the  remains  of  skeletons  packed  closely  together.  Car- 
lyle  now  plies  FitzGerald  with  questions.  He  wants  to 
know  whether  there  was  a  windmill  at  Naseby  (yes,  on 
Mill  Hill).  Are  there  any  traces  of  such  names  as  these  : 
Lantford  Hedges,  where  Okey's  dragoons  hid  ;  Rutput 
Hill,  Lean  Leaf  Hill?  What  steeples,  etc.,  can  be  descried 
from  Mill  Hill  ?  and  so  on — just  the  questions  to  be  asked 
by  a  man  desirous  of  writing  a  vivid  account  of  the  event. 
Replies  to  the  best  of  his  ability  being  sent  by  FitzGerald, 
Carlyle  again  writes  urging  a  continuance  of  the  investi- 
gations, and  observing,  '  It  is  long  since  I  read  a  letter 
so  interesting  as  yours  of  yesterday.  Clearly  enough 
you  are  upon  the  very  battleground  ;  and  I,  it  is  also 
clear,  have  only  looked  up  towards  it  from  the  slope  of 
Mill  Hill.'  In  the  intervals  of  excavating,  FitzGerald  read 
Virgil's  Georgics,  and  felt  that  they  attuned  perfectly  with 
his  bucolic  surroundings.  He  sits  at  breakfast  at  Mr. 
Watchams',  and  looking  out  of  window  sees  the  old 
stump  of  a  cross  grown  round  with  long  grass,  great 
high  hedges  ramped  over  by  clematis  and  briony,  and 
labourers  taking  their  horses  to  plough — up  the  long  road 
that  leads  past  the  obelisk  ;  then  turning  to  his  book  he 
reads  the  passage  in  which  the  swains  are  bidden  to 
work  their  steers  and  sow  barley  in  the  fields,  '  Libra  die 
somnique,^  ^  etc.  Next  day  he  goes  out  with  two  farmers 
and  the  venerable  vicar,  the  Rev.  William  Marshall,  who 
was  old  enough  to  have  spoken  to  the  sons  of  the  men 
who  took  part  in  the  fight.  A  great  trench  was  dug,  with 
the  result  of  more  skeletons — most  of  them  naturally 
incomplete — and  a  large  number  of  sound  teeth,  a  few  of 
which  were  afterwards  sent  to  Carlyle.  FitzGerald's  idea 
of  opening  another  grave  was  apparently  not  put  into 
execution.   >  He  quite  satisfied  Carlyle,  however,  but  con- 

^  Georg.  i.  208-211. 


i82  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

fessed  that  all  this  digging  up  of  dead  Cavaliers  and 
Roundheads  was  little  to  his  taste  ;  although  it  certainly 
gave  him  satisfaction  to  feel  that  he  had  been  able  to 
discover  where  the  thickest  of  the  fight  had  taken  place. 
Unfortunately  the  Cromwell  was  not  being  constructed  in 
the  same  way  as  the  French  Revolution  ;  and  Carlyle, 
instead  of  giving  a  vivid  description  of  the  battle,  for 
which  he  had  all  the  materials,  contented  himself  with  a 
short  pasticcio  of  it,  which  he  put,  not  in  the  body  of  the 
book,  but  in  the  appendix  of  the  third  volume.^ 

Carlyle  wished  to  erect  over  the  principal  grave  a  block 
of  Portland  stone,  and  suggested  for  inscription  :  *  Here, 
as  proved  by  strict  and  not  too  impious  examination,  lie 
the  slain  of  the  Battle  of  Naseby ' — a  project  that  was 
talked  about  for  thirty  years,  but  owing  to  various  diffi- 
culties never  put  into  execution.  FitzGerald  often  calls 
at  24  Cheyne  Row  to  see  Carlyle  about  this  Naseby  affair, 
or  about  nothing  in  particular,  and  he  and  Carlyle,  in 
dressing-gown  and  straw  hat,  each  with  half  a  yard  of 
pipe,  stroll  by  the  hour  up  and  down  the  flagged  court 
and  'poor  sooty  patch  of  garden,'  and  under  the  'old 
scrag  of  a  cherry-tree.' 

In  July  1843  FitzGerald  paid  a  third  visit  to  Ireland, 
reaching  Dublin  on  July  nth,  to  find  the  people  going 
59,  In  Ireland  about  in  their  cars  or  standing  idle  just  as 
again.  ever.      At   his   hotel    occurred    an   odd   and 

inconvenient  incident.  It  was  a  hot  day,  and  he  ordered 
a  tepid  bath.  By  and  by  he  went  to  the  bathroom,  where 
the  attendant,  instead  of  leaving  him  to  lock  the  door  in- 
side, by  mistake  locked  him  in ;  and,  to  crown  the  trouble, 
the  water  was  scalding  hot.  How  long  FitzGerald  was 
left  in  this  predicament  history  does  not  record,  but  it  is 
relieving  to  read  of  his  setting  out  next  day  for  his  Uncle 

^  Oliver  CromwcWs  Letters  and  Speeches,  vol.  iii.  p.  344.    Ashburton  Edition. 


NASEBY  EXCAVATIONS  183 

Peter's  at  Halverstown,  Kilcullen.  For  his  cousins 
Margaret,  Honoria,  and  Mary  Frances,  who  were  amus- 
ing themselves  with  private  theatricals,  he  wrote  a  pro- 
logue to  one  of  Calderon's  plays.  He  passed  most  of 
his  time,  however,  at  Ballysax,  close  to  the  Curragh 
Camp,  and  Kildare,  '  one  of  the  wretchedest  wild  villages  ' 
that  Carlyle,  who  visited  it  a  little  later,  '  ever  saw,  full  of 
ragged  beggars,  and  altogether  like  a  village  in  Dahomey.' 
We  may  judge  that  FitzGerald  visited  the  cathedral,  and 
the  ruins  of  Grey  Abbey,  the  burial-place  of  the  ancient 
FitzGeralds,  and  was  shown  the  site  of  the  nunnery  of 
St.  Bridget,  famous  for  its  inextinguishable  fire.  Then 
followed  another  visit  to  Edgeworthstown.  Frank  Edge- 
worth,  having  given  up  his  unprofitable  school,  if  indeed 
he  ever  had  any  pupils,  at  Eltham,  had  come  back  to 
Ireland  to  take  charge  of  his  sister's  estate,  and  '  be  a 
good  country  gentleman  ' — 'to  Mrs.  Edgeworth's  and  all 
our  inexpressible  comfort  and  support,'  adds  'the  great 
Maria,'  'also  for  the  good  of  the  country  as  a  resident 
landlord  and  magistrate  much  needed.'  So  Frank  at 
last  found  his  niche  in  the  world  and  could,  when  not 
sitting  on  the  bench,  receiving  rents,  or  going  into 
accounts,  bury  himself  in  Kant,  Spinoza,  and  '  deep 
philosophising  '  in  general.  FitzGerald  thinks  Miss  Edge- 
worth  is  wearing  away ;  still  she  has  six  more  years  to 
live.  He  sets  sail  from  Dublin  on  September  ist,  bear- 
ing with  him  '  the  heartfelt  regrets  of  all  the  people  of 
Ireland.' 

Back  again  in  Boulge  he  walks  out  with  '  Bletsoe '  ; 
visits  Crabbe ;  takes  tea  with  Barton  ;  strolls  over  to 
Hasketon  to  taste  some  of  Squire  Jenny's  fresh  air  ;  goes 
on  Sunday  to  church,  where  the  parson  and  the  clerk — 
among  the  fungi  and  the  mouse-bitten  curtains — get 
'  through  the  service  sea-saw,   like   two   men   in  a  saw- 


i84  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

pit';  papers  his  rooms  a  'still  green,'  so  as  to  agree 
with  his  '  Venetian  pictures  '  ;  places  his  chair  against  the 
window,  hangs  his  legs  out  over  the  window-ledge,  reads 
Seneca,  and  feels  happy.  This  method  of  disposing  of  his 
legs  used  to  be  taken  advantage  of  by  two  naughty  village 
boys,  who  would  watch  until  they  saw  him  comfortably 
settled,  and  then  steal  round  to  the  back  and  climb  his 
walnut-tree.  On  one  occasion,  when  they  were  helping 
themselves,  they  saw,  on  looking  down,  FitzGerald  walk- 
ing backwards  and  forwards  in  his  loose  blue  coat,  book 
in  hand,  under  the  tree,  but  never  raising  his  eyes.  He 
kept  them  there  the  better  part  of  an  afternoon.  In 
March  he  hears  of  the  death  of  his  old  friend  and 
pensioner  Mrs.  Chaplin  of  Wherstead,  and  looks  out 
another  old  lady  to  supply  her  place.  In  April  he  writes 
to  Mrs.  Charlesworth  of  Bramford,^  chiefly  with  a  view  to 
helping  Carlyle  on  the  subject  of  Cromwell's  Lincolnshire 
campaign  ;  and  late  in  the  year  he  hears  of  the  pre- 
sentation of  John  Allen  to  the  living  of  Frees,  in  North 
Shropshire.^ 

^  Near  Ipswich. 

^  In  October  1847  Allen  was  appointed  Archdeacon  of  Salop. 


JOHN  ALLKX,  1S44 

Ffotn  a  painting  by  Samuel  Lci'vyente. 


PLATE  XX. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

REV.  T.  R.  MATTHEWS 

APRIL  1844 — SEPTEMBER  184S 

In  the  meantime,  the  Rev.  T.  R.  Matthews  had  been 
continuing  with  more  energy  and  fervour  than  ever  his 
evangehstic  work,  wearing  himself  out  with  ^  TheBrom- 
preaching,  six  sermons  a  week  being  no  un-  ham  Road 
common  occurrence.  One  particular  service,  ^^^ ' 
at  which  FitzGerald  was  present,  excites  our  interest 
above  others.  It  was  on  the  night  of  Good  Friday  (April 
1844).  The  worshippers  had  gathered  early  in  front  of 
the  Bromham  Road  Chapel.  The  traffic  was  impeded, 
vehicles  having  a  difficulty  to  get  past.  As  soon  as  the 
doors  were  opened  the  crowd  (FitzGerald  among  them), 
or  as  many  as  the  building  would  hold,  poured  in,  while 
the  rest  stood  with  heads  craned  in  at  the  door,  or  went 
away  disappointed.  In  the  middle  of  the  far  end  of  the 
chapel  was  a  panelled  pulpit  with  red  cushion  and 
tassels,  and  '  S  '  shaped  gas  bracket  and  globe.  Close  to 
this  sat  FitzGerald.  Matthews,  a  Saul  of  a  man,  with 
prominent  eyebrows,  aquiline,  high-bridged  nose,  and 
hair  curling  up  at  the  neck,  in  black  Genevan  gown 
with  white  bands,  ascended  the  pulpit  steps,  a  wooden 
cross  in  his  hands.  The  subject  of  the  sermon  was  the 
Crucifixion.  Raising  the  cross,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on 
it,  Matthews  commenced  with  a  calm  and  minute  descrip- 
tion of  the  tremendous  event,  describing  the  approach  to 

187 


i88  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Golgotha,  the  driving  of  the  nail  into  one  hand,  into  the 
other,  through  both  feet,  the  raising  of  the  cross,  God 
in  man's  image  distended,  the  tears  of  the  women,  the 
terror  of  the  disciples,  the  sneers  of  the  priests.  '  He 
saved  others.  Himself  He  cannot  save.'  No  fine  words, 
no  affectation,  but  the  preacher's  earnestness  was  terrible. 
A  grand  sermon  with  a  flavour  of  the  old  monkish  days, 
though  even  Peter  the  Hermit,  with  all  his  eloquence  and 
with  his  wooden  cross,  was  less  powerful  to  move  the 
masses.  At  the  end  ensued  a  few  moments  of  profound 
silence.  Then  Matthews  earnestly  begged  that  some  of 
his  hearers  would  express  their  belief  that  Christ  had 
died  for  them.  One  after  another,  with  tear-stained  face 
and  with  sobs,  rose  up  and  declared  their  faith  in  the 
Redeemer.  'I  was  quite  overset,'  observes  FitzGerald, 
'  all  poor  people :  how  much  richer  than  all  who  fill  the 
London  churches.  Theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  ! ' 
FitzGerald  was  greatly  impressed,  too,  by  Matthews' 
enthusiasm  and  intense  feeling.  He  preached  with  all 
his  soul  and  with  all  his  might,  and  he  quitted  the  pulpit 
'as  wet  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  tub.'  In  fact,  he  was 
slowly  killing  himself. 

In   May   1844   Browne   and    '  Monsieur  Jem '   (that   is 

Spedding)  were  at  Boulge  visiting  FitzGerald,  who  calls 

,      them    good    representatives — Browne   of   the 

Marriag-e,         Vita  Attiva,  Spedding  of  the  Vita   Contem- 

30    Ju  y  I  44.    pjg^^-jyg^ .   ^]^Q   formcr  one   of  the  busiest  men 

in  Bedford,  '  farmer,  magistrate,  militia  officer — of  more 
use,'  says  FitzGerald,  '  in  a  week  than  I  in  my  life  long' 
— being  all  for  action  ;  the  latter  all  for  persistent  and 
unwearied  study.  Browne,  however,  could  spare  odd 
half-hours  for  contemplation  ;  and  Spedding,  '  that  literary 
sportsman,'  was,  as  his  letters  show,  fully  appreciative 
of  the  pleasures  of  country  life.       In  one  of  his  letters. 


REV.  T.   R.   MATTHEWS  189 

written  just  before  a  visit  to  Browne,  he  says  :  '  I  hope 
that  before  the  partridges  or  hares  are  all  shot  we  may- 
make  it  suit  each  other  to  have  a  pop  at  them  together. 
We  never  quite  settled  the  question  which  of  us  could 
miss  a  hare  cleanest.'^  This,  however,  was  pleasantry, 
each  being  a  first-rate  shot.  Spedding  clearly  came  into 
the  world  for  only  two  purposes :  to  edit  Bacon  and  to 
shoot  grouse  and  snipe — grouse  in  his  plantations  at 
Corrybrough,  and  snipe  among  the  reeds  of  the  Ouse. 

Browne,  as  we  have  seen,  had  become  engaged  to  Miss 
Elizabeth    Elliott.      The  death  of  her  father   took   place 
on  2 1  St  February  1844,  and  by  and  by  the  date  of  the 
wedding     of    Browne     and     Miss     Elliott     was     fixed. 
FitzGerald  wished  his  friend  every  happiness,  using  the 
words    of    Michael     Drayton    to   his   William    Browne : 
'  So   mayst   thou   thrive   as   thou,    young   shepherd,    art 
beloved  by  me '  ;    but  his  heart  was  sore  all  the  same. 
No  more  Bedford,  he  thought,  and  no  more  poplars,  or 
Clapham  Tower,  or  '  Falcon '  at  Bletsoe,  or  pottering  along- 
side the  Ouse  with  book  and  colour-box.     Ten  years  had 
elapsed  since  his  first  visit,  and  this  of  1844  was  surely 
to   be   the    last !      He    need    not    have   troubled    himself 
with  apprehensions,  for  Bedfordshire  was  to  be  his   yet 
another  fifteen  years.     'When  I   heard,'  says  he,  'that 
they  could  not  have  less  than  five  hundred  a  year,  I  gave 
up  all  further  interest  in  the  matter.     I  could  not  wish  a 
reasonable   couple   more.      W.    B.   may   be   spoilt   if  he 
grows  rich  :  that  is  the  only  thing  could  spoil  him.'     The 
wedding,  at  which  FitzGerald  was  present,  took  place  at 
Goldington,  all  the  village  being  in  gala,  on  30th  July 
1844.    Browne,  who  was  twenty-six  (his  wife  was  nineteen), 
is  described  at  this  time  as  having  a  very  clear,  pink,  and 
white  complexion,  a  full,  large,  blue-grey  eye,  and  a  square 

^  Unpublished  letter  of  Spedding's. 


igo  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

and  rather  massive  forehead.  Then  he  was  shaven  ; 
subsequently  he  wore  full  moustache  and  whiskers.  Four 
portraits  of  him  are  in  existence:  (i)  A  water-colour — 
head  and  shoulders — a  very  young  man  in  fawn  waistcoat, 
darkish  coat,  light  overcoat,  light  blue  tie,  longish  hair, 
shaven  chin  and  lip.  (2)  Sketch  by  Thackeray — three- 
quarters,  cutaway  coat,  cane  in  left  hand,  stock  and  big 
coat  collar  ;  Swiss  church  in  background.  (3)  An  un- 
finished oil  painting  by  Lawrence  —  side  face,  auburn 
hair,  slight  side  whiskers.  (4)  A  photograph  of  him 
outside  his  hut  at  Aldershot.  All  are  given  in  this  book. 
FitzGerald  portrays  his  friend  thus :  '  Has  very  good 
abilities  ;  a  ^.jriooth-mannered  person  ;  more  surface~Than 
depth  ;  quite  a  man  of  the  world  ;  fond  of  argument,  but 
not  ill-tempered ;  careful,  thoughtfulfor  others,  and  a 
good  contriver ;  gentlemanly ;  would  nol  So  a  mean 
thing.' 1  'He  haH^^ajie-^ntuition,'  says  FitzGerald  in  a 
letter  of  7th  February  1883,  '  into  men,  matters^and^vep 
into  matters  o£_aft  ;  though  Thackeray  would  call  him 
^M^^ittle  Browne,"  which  I  told  him  he  was  not  justified  in 
doing.'  The  epithet  'Little'  seems,  however,  to  have 
been  suggested  rather  by  Browne's  stature,  for  he  was 
only  five  feet  seven,  whilst  Thackeray  himself  was  big  and 
burly.  Moreover,  FitzGerald  in  his  playful  moods  did  not 
spare  his  friend  either,  often  calling  him  'Dear  Stubby.' 
Even  six  months  later  (December  1844)  FitzGerald  was 
lamenting  his  supposed  loss.  'Browne,'  says  he,  'is 
married,  and  I  shall  see  but  little  of  him  for  the  future. 
I  have  laid  by  my  rod  and  line  by  the  willows  of  the  Ouse 
for  ever.  ' '  He  is  married  and  cannot  come. "  This  change 
is  the  meaning  of  those  verses — 

"  Friend  after  friend  departs  ; 
Who  has  not  lost  a  friend?"' 


Unpublished  manuscript  in  the  possession  of  the  Rev.  Kenworthy  Browne. 


TURXPIKE  COTTAGE,  GOLDINGTON 
Front  a  photoi^raph  by  Bcdiuell,  Broivn  and  Co,,  Bedford. 


GOLi)i.\(;rox  HAi.i.  (H.KDioKD),  KKOM  ( ;oi,i»i N( ;ton  green 

From  a  photo>:raph  hy  J.  .  I.  Riid.  Esq.,  Bedford.  I'l.ATE  XXI. 


REV.  T.   R.  MATTHEWS  193 

But  in  the  summer  of  1845  FitzGerald  is  again  off  to 
'dear  old  Bedfordshire,'  the  marriage  having  made  no 
difference  whatever  ;  and  presently  we  hear  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  W.  Kenworthy  Browne  taking  up  their  residence  at 
Goldington  Hall. 

The  village  of  Goldington  is  situated  about  two  miles 
north-east  of  Bedford,  which  in  that  direction,  as  in 
others,  is  rapidly  extending-.     On  the  left,  one 

'  ^       -^  '^    ,  ' .  62.  Golding- 

passes  the  *Fox  and  Hounds  inn  and  spacious  ton  Hail, 
nursery  gardens,  and  on  the  right  the  road  J^^  Bloody 
leading  to  the  ruins  of  Newnham  Priory,  with 
the  site  of  Turnpike  Cottage,^  the  picturesque  residence 
of  the  common  friend  of  the  Brownes  and  FitzGerald, 
Captain  Addington.  Addington  was  a  retired  naval 
captain — a  little,  pursy,  bald-headed,  kindly,  catty  old 
gentleman  in  brown  coat  and  brass  buttons,  much 
given  to  blazing  fires,  a  luxurious  arm-chair,  and  other 
'  seductive  comforts '  or  discomforts.  He  divided  his 
time  between  Turnpike  Cottage  and  his  London  club, 
the  United  Service.  His  cats,  which  he  treated  like 
human  beings,  and  taught  numerous  accomplishments, 
were  the  talk  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  FitzGerald 
extended  their  fame  to  Woodbridge.  Goldington  is  built 
round  a  green  or  goose-common.  On  the  west  is  the 
vicarage  (a  modern  erection  occupying  the  site  of  its  low 
and  picturesque  predecessor),  on  the  north  Goldington 
Hall,  on  the  east  Goldington  Bury,  and  on  the  south  are  the 
majority  of  the  cottages,  with  several  inns.  The  church, 
St.  Mary's,  is  a  little  to  the  north-east  of  the  Hall,  and 
beyond,  near  the  Ouse,  is  a  conical  mound — the  remains 
of  Risinghoe  Castle.  The  Hall,  dating  from  1650,  is  a 
spacious  house,  embosomed  in  shrubs  and  lofty  trees, 
but  its   chimneys  and    upper  windows  appear  conspicu- 

'  Pulled  down  in  December  1902,  just  after  our  photograph  of  it  was  taken. 
VOL.   I.  I 


194         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

ously  and  picturesquely  above  the  foliage  as  one 
approaches  it  from  the  green.  The  south  or  principal 
front,  like  the  rest  of  the  house,  is  of  old  red  brick,  but 
on  the  right  of  the  entrance-porch  is  a  patch  of  stone, 
evidently  the  remains  of  an  earlier  house.  Noticeable, 
too,  are  the  two  curious  round-headed  recesses  in  the  wall 
to  the  left  of  the  porch.  There  are  fine  old  yews,  chest- 
nuts, hawthorns,  walnuts,  and  firs.  An  old-fashioned 
garden,  with  mounds  of  topiary  work,  and  gay  with 
flowers,  extends  northward,  and  is  succeeded  by  a  pretty 
pightle  or  paddock  of  classic  fame,  from  which  is  obtained 
a  view  of  the  gables  of  the  house.  There  have  been 
considerable  alterations  and  improvements  at  the  Hall  of 
recent  years,  but  all  in  keeping  with  the  Cromwellian 
buildinsf.  The  staircase  and  the  decorations  of  the  hall 
are  modern,  but  the  massive  carved  oak  doors  are  of 
Browne's  time  ;  whilst  on  the  first  floor  is  a  room  with  the 
original  oak  wainscotting,  and  untouched,  except  that  the 
ceiling  has  been  raised.  The  furniture  is  modern.  In 
FitzGerald's  day  one  of  the  charms  of  the  place  was  the 
fact  of  its  being  filled  with  furniture  from  Mrs.  Piozzi's 
house  at  Streatham,  which  Mrs.  Browne's  father  had 
bought  as  early  as  1810.  Dr.  Johnson's  own  bed  was 
included,  and  in  the  room  in  which,  during  his  visits  here, 
FitzGerald  slept,  stood  the  Great  Cham's  *  own  bookcase 
and  secretaire  ;  with  looking-glass  in  the  panels  which 
often  reflected  his  uncouth  shape.' 

FitzGerald  was  never  happier  than  when  at  Goldington 
sauntering  in  its  elmy  fields  and  dreaming  in  the  pightle;^ 
and  in  his  letters,  both  published  and  unpublished,  he 
speaks  with  feeling  and  affection  of  the  village  and  the 
friends  he  there  made.     If  inclined  for  sport,  and  it  was 

^  See  chapter  xii.  of  this  work,  '  When  in  Bedfordshire  I  put  away  almost  all 
books  except  Omar,' etc. 


REV.  T.   R.  MATTHEWS  197 

to  fishing  that  he  was  always  most  addicted,  he  could 
generally  —  if  Browne  was  busy  with  his  tenants,  at  a 
true-blue  dinner,  or  at  his  hundred  and  one  other  occu- 
pations— fall  back  on  Harry  Boulton,i  the  gentleman 
farmer  of  Puttenhoe,  married  to  Browne's  sister  Anne  ; 
or  Robert  Elliott  of  Goldington  Bury,  Mrs.  Browne's 
brother.  If  studiously  inclined  he  could,  as  he  so  often 
did,  look  in  at  the  vicarage,  and  talk  philology  with 
the  Rev.  William  Monkhouse.^  To  Mr.  Monkhouse, 
a  tall,  handsome,  ninible  man  with  an  aquiline  nose, 
who  had  been  a  great  athlete,  and  who  at  fifty  had 
never  seen  a  gate  he  could  not  jump,  the  vicarage  was 
a  sort  of  Little  Ease.  He  could  not  stand  upright  in 
any  of  the  rooms  without  brushing  the  ceilings  with  his 
hair  or  bumping  his  forehead  against  the  beams.  Being 
more  solicitous,  however,  for  the  spiritual  and  educa- 
tional advancement  of  the  village  than  for  the  preservation 
of  the  charms  of  his  person,  the  situation  gave  him  small 
concern.  He  was  an  enthusiastic  antiquary,  his  speciality 
being  Druidic  Remains,  which  he  held  to  be  entirely 
unconnected  with  Druidism,  and  he  was  the  author  of 
a  scholarly  work  on  the  etymologies  of  Bedfordshire, 
which  appeared  in  1857.  Very  sensibly,  he  did  not  keep 
his  learning  to  himself,  but,  by  way  of  lecture  and  con- 
versation, imparted  it  to  his  thick-soled,  but  not  unintel- 
ligent, parishioners,  who  thus  became  not  only  good 
Christians  but  respectable  antiquaries.  The  Rev. 
William  Airy,  FitzGerald's  Keysoe  friend,  and  Monk- 
house  were  kindred  spirits  and  boon  companions.  Airy 
compiled  a  Digest  of  the  Domesday  Book  as  it  con- 
cerned   Bedfordshire.       If    FitzGerald    did    not    interest 

*  Henry  Dyott  Boulton. 

'•^  Born  1805  ;  curate  of  Goldington  and  Willington  1831,  rector  of  Goldington 
1835- 


198         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

himself  much  in  their  archaeology,  he  was  ever  ready 
to  discuss  with  both  questions  relating  to  philology. 
Old  Captain  Addington  of  Turnpike  Cottage  cared 
nothing  for  philology,  but  FitzGerald  found  him  also 
excellent  company,  and  he  would  often  visit  the  little 
thatched  homestead,  which  must  have  reminded  him  of 
his  cottage  at  Boulge,  which,  however,  was  less  ornate, 
and  in  which  one  could  walk  without  treading  on  cats. 
Captain  Addington's  family  had  owned  Goldington 
Bury,  indeed  most  of  the  village; ;  but  the  estate  had 
become  encumbered,  and  when  it  was  sold — Mr.  Robert 
Elliott,  Mrs.  Browne's  father,  being  the  purchaser — the 
captain  had  seven-and-sixpence  to  take.  With  his  seven- 
and-sixpence,  his  Government  pension,  his  servants, 
'  Big  Isaac '  and  '  Little  Isaac '  (father  and  son  named 
Joyce),  his  dog  Badger,  his  tortoise-shell  cat  Tom,  and 
his  other  but  less  illustrious  cats,  the  choleric  little 
captain  then  retired  to  Turnpike  Cottage.  His  delight 
was  to  drive  about  in  a  gig,  dressed  in  a  blue  coat  and 
white  waistcoat,  with  'Little  Isaac,'  and  to  terrify  chil- 
dren, 'often  threatening  to  ride  over  them.'  This,  how- 
ever, was  only  his  fun,  for  *  he  was  a  very  tender  man 
for  a  captain.' 

A  favourite  excursion  with  FitzGerald  at  this  time 
was  to  Turvey,  four  miles  out,  where  lived  Mr.  George 
Boulton,  Harry  Boulton's  brother.  Here  FitzGerald 
made  a  number  of  sketches,  which  for  years  were  among 
his  most  cherished  treasures.  The  guests  at  Goldington 
included  Thackeray  ;  and  he,  FitzGerald,  and  Browne, 
by  their  different  heights,  formed  three  steps  as  they 
walked  down  Bedford  High  Street.  Thackeray  made  a 
good  many  sketches  with  Bedford  scenes  for  background  ; 
moreover,  presently,  when  engaged  on  Pendennis,  he 
drew  largely  on   Browne,  and  in  a  minor  degree,  as  we 


> 


f. 

O      < 

J.       ~ 


-     s> 


REV.  T.   R.  MATTHEWS  201 

have  already  observed,  on  FitzGerald.  Bedford  does 
not  altogether  correspond  with  Chatteris,  which  is 
apparently  a  mixture  of  Bedford  and  some  sleepy 
cathedral  town  ;  but  Arthur  Pendennis  is  clearly 
enough  Browne's  double.  '  Arthur's  hair  was  of  a 
healthy  brown  colour  which  looks  like  gold  in  the 
sunshine  ;  his  face  was  round,  rosy,  freckled,  and  good- 
humoured  ;  .  .  .in  fact,  without  being  a  beauty,  he  had 
such  a  frank,  good-natured,  kind  face,  and  laughed  so 
merrily  at  you  out  of  his  honest  blue  eyes,  that  no 
wonder  Mrs.  Pendennis  thought  him  the  pride  of  the 
whole  county.'  Then  again,  Pendennis  was  only  five 
feet  eight — a  mere  dwarf  in  the  eyes  of  the  gigantic 
Thackeray.  He  rode  a  very  good  mare  with  un- 
common pluck  and  grace,  and  took  fences  with  great 
coolness,  had  an  'honest  taste  for  port  wine,'  was 
an  enthusiastic  fox-hunter  and  angler,  loved  art  and 
literature,  and  had  political  ambitions.  Such  also  was 
Browne,  and  one  could  easily  point  to  plenty  of  other 
parallels.  As  Mrs.  Anne  Thackeray  Ritchie  observes, 
'  There  was  a  little  likeness  in  Warrington  to  Edward 
FitzGerald.' 

That  Browne  was  a  man  of  culture  is  evident  from 
his  commonplace  books.  One  of  them,  a  '  Book  of 
Extracts  made  in  1833,'  contains  among  other  entries 
'A  Paper  on  Diet,'  'Virgil's  Tomb,'  'Remarks  on 
Hogarth  by  Horace  Walpole,'  and  extracts  from  the 
poets,  principally  Scott.  Being  now  ambitious  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  in  politics,  he  often  spoke  at  the 
meetings  of  the  Bedford  Conservative  Society,  and 
nursed  the  hope  of  getting  into  St.  Stephen's.  Fitz- 
Gerald's  ideal  man  in  Eupkranor,  it  will  be  remembered, 
'  is  qualified  not  only  to  shoot  the  pheasant  and  hunt 
the  fox,  but  even  to  sit  on  the   Bench  of  Magistrates — 


202  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

or  even  in  Parliament — not  unprovided  with  a  quotation 
or  two  from  Horace  or  Virgil.' 

On  August  20th  FitzGerald  is  in  London  with 
Thackeray,  who  is  busy  on  Barry  Lyndo7i,^  and  they 
63.  Andalusia's  dine  with  Quin  at  a  party  where  '  FitzGerald 
marriage.  jg  jj-,  wonderful  cue.'     Later  FitzGerald  is  at 

Geldestone  again,  visiting  Mrs.  Schutz,  and  making  for 
a  niece  'a  Nelly-ad,'  or  abstract  of  Nell's  wanderings 
from  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop.  In  vSeptember  he  is  at 
Leamington  to  see  his  sister  Andalusia  married  to  the 
Rev.  Francis  de  Soyres,  and  gives  a  day  to  looking 
over  the  field  of  Edgehill.  '  If  war  breaks  out  in  France,' 
says  he,  '  I  will  take  up  arms  as  a  volunteer  under 
Major  Pytches.2  Pytches  and  Westminster  Abbey ! ' 
Back  at  Boulge,  he  wishes  F.  Tennyson  were  with  him 
to  quarrel — that  is  '  in  the  sense  of  a  good  strenuous 
difference  of  opinion,  supported  on  either  side  by  occa- 
sional outbursts  of  spleen  '  ;  and  in  November  he 
declares,  '  I  certainly  love  winter  better  than  summer. 
Could  one  but  know,  as  one  sits  within  the  tropic  latitude 
of  one's  fireside,  that  there  was  not  increased  want,  cold, 
and  misery  beyond  it.'  So  he  cuddles  round  the  fire 
in  his  solitary  Boulge  Cottage,  his  cat  and  the  dog 
'  Bletsoe '  on  the  rug,  and  his  old  woman,  with  her 
beautiful  red  arms,  in  the  kitchen,  just  as  if  it  were  an 
Apuleius's  or  Gil  Bias's  robbers'  cave,  save  that  the  prison 
is  his  by  choice,  not  necessity.  '  We  are  never  very 
much  displeased,'  he  cries,  echoing  La  Rochefoucauld, 
'with  our  neighbours'  misfortunes'^ — but  that  is  a  libel 
on  himself,  for  he  can  scarcely  enjoy  his  fire  for  think- 
ing   of    the    sufferings   of  the   poor   in    the   biting   cold 

^  Appeared  in  Fraser's  Magazine,  January  to  December  1844. 
^  His  friend  at  Melton  Grange. 
*  Unpublished  letter. 


\V.   KKNWOKTH^■   I'.ROWNE 


aketJi  by  Tliackeyay. 


PLATE  XXIV. 


REV.  T.  R.  MATTHEWS  205 

weather,  though  he  thinks  they  are  much  to  blame  too 

— 'they  will  have  such  enormous  families.' 

In  May  1845  Bernard  Barton,  after  a  silence  of  nine 

years,  published  his  eighth  volume  of  poetry.  Household 

Verses^  which  is  interesting  to  us  on  account  of  64.  Bernard 

its  frontispiece,   'Gainsborough's  Lane,'  and    Barton's 

eighth  volume. 

Vignetted  title-page,  'Scene  on  the  Deben,  'Le petit 
both  from  paintings  by  FitzGerald's  friend  Churchyard.' 
Thomas  Churchyard  ;  also  for  the  verses  to  Lucy  Barton 
and  the  stanzas^  suggested  by  a  gift  which  Barton  re- 
ceived from  FitzGerald's  mother.  ^  Thomas  Churchyard 
— 'my  little  friend  Churchyard,'  '  le  petit  Churchyard' — 
was  a  solicitor  and  amateur  artist  of  Woodbridge,  who 
did  not,  FitzGerald  used  wickedly  to  say,  paint  in  '  body ' 
colour.  Churchyard,  'our  great  judge  on  art,'  had  a 
poetical  mind— once  pleased  FitzGerald,  for  instance,  by 
calling  the  pretty  yellow  aconites  in  front  of  Boulge 
Cottage  '  New  Year's  Gifts ' — and  was  an  authority  on 
Gainsborough,  Constable,  Crome,  and  other  East  Anglian 
artists.  In  his  own  profession  Churchyard,  despite,  or 
perhaps  owing  to,  his  gifts  made  little  headway.  Had 
he  loved  parchment  more  and  canvas  less,  he  would 
have  had  a  plumper  purse,  though  not  necessarily  a 
more  joyous  existence.  In  short,  his  was  the  poetic 
and  artistic,  not  the  business  temperament.  He  em- 
broidered even  the  law  ;  his  nervous  eloquence,  to  use 
the  words  of  his  friend  John  Loder,  '  often  lending  a 
positive  grace  to  the  dry  details  of  many  an  uninteresting 
case.'  His  devotion  to  the  fine  and  impoverishing  arts 
was,  indeed,  to  him  the  very  '  breath  of  life.' 

Matthews  the  preacher  had  persevered  in  his  work  with 
an  earnestness  which  even  his  herculean  frame  could  not 
stand.     In  three  years,  says  John  FitzGerald,  he  preached 

^  Household  Verses,  p.  86.  *  Ibid.  p.  83. 


2o6  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

over  a  thousand  sermons — an  average  near  upon  of 
one  a  day,  but  the  preaching  was  but  a  part  of  his 
65.  Death  of  self-imposed  labour.^  Take  a  glimpse  at  him 
Matthews,  at  half-past  five  in  the  morning  on  Easter 
^^  '  '  Sunday,  1842.  He  is  in  a  meadow  by  the 
river  Ouse,  for  seven  persons  are  to  be  baptized.  There 
are  one  hundred  and  fifty  present.  'A  little  while,'  he 
says,  '  before  I  baptized,  the  sun  had  risen  with  peculiar 
splendour,  his  bright  rays  threw  a  lustre  over  the  solemn 
scene  and  met  the  faces  of  our  baptized  brethren  and 
sisters  as  they  came  out  of  the  water,  making  their  faces 
sparkle  again,  as  the  dewdrops  in  the  morning  sun  ;  it 
was  a  glorious  time,  the  sun  shining,  the  children  of 
God  rising  out  of  the  water,  the  animating  voices  of 
friends  by  the  river-side  singing  ''glory,  honour,  praise, 
and  power,"  made  the  whole  scene  truly  solemn.'  The 
sick  he  anointed  with  oil,  Omne  oleo  tranquillari — '  Every- 
thing can  be  calmed  with  oil,'  he  used  to  say  with  Pliny. 
And  he  prayed  over  people  afflicted  with  deafness  and 
other  complaints,  though  not  always  with  success.  '  One 
for  deafness  of  seventeen  years  standing,  and  on  Sabbath 
could  hear  better  than  for  a  long  time,'  but  on  another 
occasion,  though  he  prayed  for  two  hours  and  a  half 
over  a  poor  deaf  woman,  whose  friends  were  anxious 
'that  she  should  have  the  use  of  her  hearing,'  his  efforts 
availed  nothing,  for  'there  was  a  lack  of  faith.'  A  Mrs. 
Symes  of  Ravensden,  among  others,  is  said  to  have  been 
the  subject  of  a  miraculous  healing.  '  She  was  so  weak 
that  she  had  to  be  carried  to  the  river,  but  on  emerging 
from  the  water  was  able  to  walk  home  without  assistance.' 
Fired  with  gratitude  to  God,  she  built  at  Ravensden  the 

^  Mr.  John  FitzGerald  tells  us  that  in  1841  Matthews  preached  328  times  ;  in 
1842,  320  limes;  in  1843,  360  times;  in  1844,  280  times;  and  in  the  eight 
months  of  1845  (the  year  he  died),  158  times. 


THOMAS  CHURCHYARD 

'  LE  FETIT  CHUKCHYARD' 


I'l.ATl-:  XX\'. 


REV.  T.   R.  MATTHEWS  209 

chapel  which  still  stands.  Bedford  became  the  English 
Lourdes.  Matthews  advocated  the  frequent  reiteration 
aloud  of  the  more  precious  verses  of  Scripture.  Thus 
he  would  say,  '"The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  His  Son, 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin  "  should  be  frequently  repeated 
by  our  lips.  ...  I  have  found  faith  greatly  increased 
by  taking  the  word  into  my  mouth.' 

On  the  22nd  August  1845  he  was  at  Walham  Green, 
London.  The  chapel  was  crammed,  the  doorway  filled 
up,  the  crowd  extended  so  far  across  the  road  that  the 
omnibuses  had  difficulty  in  passing,  and  he  got  home  at 
ten,  wearied  out.  On  the  Monday  and  Tuesday  he  exerted 
himself  even  more,  and  his  appetite  failed.  On  the 
Wednesday  he  went  to  dine  with  a  gentleman,  but  could 
eat  nothing ;  nevertheless  he  preached  as  usual  in  the 
evening  to  a  huge  congregation.  The  exertion,  the  heat, 
the  closeness  of  the  atmosphere,  the  exposure  to  the  cold 
air  afterwards,  quickened  his  complaint,  and  when  they 
brought  him  home  to  Bedford  it  was  found  that  typhus 
fever  had  set  in.  FitzGerald,  who  was  then  paying  his 
usual  visit  to  the  Brownes,  deeply  sympathised  with  his 
'  noble  preacher,'  but  feared  for  the  worst.  Conformably 
to  a  plan  made  some  time  previous,  he  took  a  three  days' 
trip  to  Naseby.  On  his  return  on  Friday,  September  5th, 
passing  through  Bedford  at  dusk,  he  saw  a  coffin  carrying 
down  the  street.  It  was  for  Matthews,  who  had  died  the 
previous  day  in  one  of  the  apartments  of  his  toad  paradise 
under  the  chapel  in  the  Bromham  Road.  Says  Fitz- 
Gerald, writing  on  the  following  Sunday  :  '  I  knew  whose 
it  must  be.  I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  save  his 
life,  which  might  certainly  have  been  saved  with  common 
precaution.  He  died  in  perfect  peace,  approving  all  the 
principles  of  his  life  to  be  genuine.' 

Matthews  was  buried  on  Monday,  September  8th,  in 


2IO  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

the  graveyard  at  the  back  of  Bromham  Road  Chapel, 
both  Edward  and  his  brother  John  being  among  the 
mourners.  His  trumpet  was  placed  before  the  pulpit  in 
the  chapel  built  by  his  arch-disciple  Mrs.  Symes  at 
Ravensden,  where  it  still  hangs.  Subsequently  his 
remains  were  removed  to  Colmworth,  where  his  followers 
raised  a  tomb  to  his  memory.^  Silhouettes  of  Matthews 
preaching  in  his  pulpit  were  eagerly  sought  after,  but 
they  are  now  scarce.  Indeed  I  have  never  seen  but  one, 
which  is  here  reproduced. 

On  the  Sunday  after  Matthews'  death,  John  FitzGerald 
'  improved '  the  death  of  his  friend  in  an  address  delivered 
in  the  Bromham  Road  Chapel.  This  was  subsequently 
printed,^  and  for  a  time  John  FitzGerald  continued 
Matthews'  work  at  Bedford,  preaching  regularly  in  the 
chapel.  Though  sealed  of  the  tribe  of  Matthews,  and 
sincere  and  staunch  as  to  his  principles,  '  a  sinner  called 
to  be  the  Lord's  delight,'  John  FitzGerald  lacked  the 
evangelist's  energy.  Edward  said  wittily,  that  when  his 
brother  wrote  '  D.V.'  (his  constant  habit)  he  was  taking 
the  Lord's  name  in  vain,  the  '  D.V.'  merely  meaning,  '  If 
/  happen  to  be  in  the  humour.'  John  FitzGerald  was 
nevertheless  a  very  earnest  man,  and  whenever  he 
preached  commanded  a  large  auditory.  Yet  he  had  an 
impediment  in  his  speech,  which  gave  his  voice  a  hissing 

^  See  Appendix  ix.     He  was  at  Colmworth  twelve  years,  at  Bedford  fifteen. 

-  There  is  a  copy  in  the  British  Museum  : — 

'  The  Apostolic  Minister's  Preparation  for  Departure  ;  a  Funeral  Address  on 
the  Death  of  the  Rev.  T.  R.  Matthews,  by  John  FitzGerald,  M.A.'  In  slate- 
coloured  paper  covers.     Price  4  shillings.     140  pp. 

Contents — 

Funeral  Address,  pp.  i  to  49. 

Appendix  i  :  On  the  Authority  of  the  Canons,  and  how  far  they  bind  the 
Clergy,  pp.  51  to  81. 

Appendix  2 :  On  the  Presumption  of  Attempting  to  Condense  the  Whole 
Scheme  of  Divine  Revelation  in  a  Smaller  Globe  than  itself,  pp.  82  and  83. 

Appendix  3  :  On  Dissent,  pp.  84  to  140. 


'MATTHEWS'  CHAPEL,'  BRO.M  HAM    K()A1>,  i;i-,l)K)KI) 


From  a  pholonraph  hy  IltdniU and  Co.,  Heii/orJ. 


I'l.ATI-:  XWI. 


REV.  T.   R.  MATTHEWS  213 

or  whistling  sound,  and  his  sermons  were  of  inordinate 
and  wearisome  length.  A  man  well  read  in  the  scriptures, 
'his  chief  aim,'  says  a  hearer,  'was  not  to  display  his 
abilities,  but  to  lead  his  hearers  to  the  fountain  of  life 
and  blessing  in  Jesus  Christ.'  In  Bedford,  owing  to  his 
preaching,  he  was  long  a  well-known  figure.  His 
eccentricities,  both  in  and  out  of  the  pulpit,  were  many. 
'I  sat  with  him  once,'  observes  an  informant,  'in  a  pew 
at  Bunyan  Meeting.  To  my  surprise,  when  the  preacher 
(it  was  the  Rev.  John  Jukes  ^)  entered  the  pulpit,  Mr. 
FitzGerald  began  to  undress.  He  did  nothing  worse, 
however,  than  remove  his  boots  and  stockings  and  a  few 
other  minor  articles  of  attire,  and  empty  the  contents  of 
his  pockets  on  to  the  cushions  of  the  seat ;  after  which  he 
seemed  comfortable  and  thoroughly  to  enjoy  the  service, 
though  he,  unwittingly,  whistled  now  and  again,  but 
not  more,  it  seems,  than  usual.'  John  FitzGerald  was 
never  happy  unless  preaching,  listening  to  sermons,  or 
arguing  about  and  criticising  them.  'I  wish,'  said 
Edward  plaintively,  one  day,  after  patiently  listening  to 
one  of  John's  tremendous  harangues,  '  I  wish  my  brother 
wouldn't  always  be  talking  about  religion.' 

^  Minister  at  Bunyan  Meeting,  1840- 1866. 


CHAPTER    IX 

E.   B.  COWELL 
OCTOBER  1 845- 1 853 

Bibliography 

9.   Notes  to  the  Table-Talk  of  John  Seldeii,  1847. 

10.  The  '  Bernard  Barton'  contributions  to  the  Ipstvich  Journal,  1849. 

February  24 — Death  of  Bernard  Barton;  March  3 — Funeral  of 
Bernard  Barton. 

11.  'Memoir   of  Bernard   Barton,'    prefixed   to   Selections  from   the 

PoeTHS  and  Letters  of  Bernard  Barton,  1849. 

12.  Euphranor,  1st  edition,  1851. 

13.  Polonius,  1852. 

14.  Six  Dramas  from  Calderon,  1853. 

The  farm,  '  Hall  Farm,'  at  which  Mr.  Job  Smith  lived, 
situated  a  little  to  the  north  of  Boulge  Hall,  was  a 
66  A  Peeo  at  f^^quent  resort  of  FitzGerald's.  It  was  an 
the  Hall  Farm,  old-fashioned,  low  thatched  building,  '  pro- 
^  '^  ■  vided   with    all    the    things    in    Bloomfield's 

poems.'  The  good  folks  made  their  own  candles  (though 
they  didn't  tell  it  at  'The  Bull'i),  and  Alfred,  Mr.  Smith's 
son,  used  to  go  down  to  the  brook  to  fetch  the  rushes. 
The  chimney-corner  was  the  snuggest  nook  in  the 
parish,  and  the  most  corpulent  of  pots  hung  from  the 
hake.  One  table  served  for  the  family  and  the  labourers, 
who  sat  together  at  the  end,  and  the  place  reminded 
FitzGerald  of  Mr.  Tovill's  farmstead  in  the  Life  of 
George  Crabbe.     Of  a  winter's  evening  a  noise  would  be 

^  At  Woodbridge. 
214 


E.  B.  COWELL  215 

heard  at  the  door  as  of  some  one  stamping  the  snow 
off  his  feet.  'There's  the  parson,'  Mrs.  Smith  would 
say,  and  in  walks,  as  white  as  a  miller,  old  Mr.  Shribb 
Reynolds — '  handsome  Mr.  Reynolds ' — with  a  basket  of 
pears.  Presently,  perhaps,  '  Mr.  Edward  '  ^  joins  the  com- 
fortable circle  and  smokes  a  long  clay  with  the  rest, 
whilst  Alfred's  brother  reads  aloud  from  the  newspaper, 
with  the  Government  red  stamp  at  the  corner,  a  speech  by 
Sir  Robert  Peel  on  the  corn  laws.  When  the  rushlight 
has  burnt  low  and  the  log  on  the  hearth  has  become 
mostly  white  ash,  Mrs.  Smith  begins  to  fidget,  and  the 
evening  is  understood  to  have  gone.  At  Hall  Farm  you 
might  burn  as  many  candles  as  you  liked  in  the  morning, 
which  began  with  sulphur  matches  and  tinder-box  at 
five,  but  there  was  a  limit  at  night.  Mr.  Reynolds  is 
first  to  go.  '  I  '11  send  the  basket  up,'  Mrs.  Smith 
invariably  said,  and  the  old  rector  always  gave  the 
reply,  '  I  brought  it  down  full,  surely  I  can  carry  it  back 
empty.'  Then  he  would  make  for  his  house  at  Debach, 
and  FitzGerald  would  seek  his  Gil  Bias's  den  at  the  park 
gates.  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Short  or  no  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Short. 

FitzGerald    was    very   fond    of    inviting    Churchyard, 
Bernard    Barton,    and   the    Rev.    George   Crabbe   to   his 
cottage,    and   he   dubbed    them    and   himself        ^^ 
'  The  Wits  of  Woodbridge.'    The  time  passed    ofWood- 
pleasantly   enough,    for  with   each   of    these     "  ^^' 
guests  FitzGerald  could  always  be  expansive  and  effusive, 
though  at  the  supper-table   there   was   more   hospitality 
than  comfort.      However,    FitzGerald   '  in   his   morning- 
coat  of  blue  serge,  cut  short,'  and  made  like  the  rest  of 
his   clothes — 'very  baggy,'   and   in    boots   'not  suitable 
for  skates,'  did  the  honours,  and  the  fame  of  their  con- 

'  FitzGerald  was  always  called  '  Mr.  Edward  '  at  the  farm. 


2i6  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

versations  reached  as  far  as  Woodbridge.  Occasionally 
there  joined  this  circle  Captain  Capper  Brooke  of  Ufford, 
*  Le  Grand  Capitaine  Brohoke,'  and  the  Rev.  Robert 
Groome,  the  very  civilised,  well-lettered,  and  agreeable 
rector  of  Monk  Soham.^  Brooke,  who  rode  a  huge  chest- 
nut charger  with  a  long  tail,  was  a  good-looking,  dapper, 
well-dressed,  and  scrupulously  neat  man,  with  very  black 
whiskers,  which  were  never  allowed  to  go  grey.  He  was 
the  pride  of  his  valet  and  his  tailor,  and  the  very 
antithesis  in  appearance  of  FitzGerald.  This  care  for 
the  person  made  him  look  much  younger  than  his  years. 
FitzGerald  once  said  to  him,  '  You  are  a  deceiver,  mon 
capitaine  ;  you  falsify  your  years,  you  have  no  right  to 
look  so  young.'  Captain  Brooke  could  talk  of  rare  and 
sumptuous  books,  for  he  had  a  fine  library,  collected  at 
enormous  expense  and  trouble.  He  made  no  account 
of  going  even  so  far  as  Italy  to  secure  anything  he  had 
set  his  heart  upon,  but  he  was  more  of  a  collector  than 
a  reader.  FitzGerald  sometimes  visited  Ufford.  Once 
he  and  Groome  called  together.  The  drawing-room  there 
had  been  newly  refurnished,  and  FitzGerald  sat  himself 
down  on  an  amber  satin  couch.  Presently  there  was 
seen  trickling  over  it  a  black  stream,  which  came  from 
a  penny  bottle  of  ink  which  FitzGerald  had  bought  in 
Woodbridge  and  put  into  a  tail-pocket.- 

Groome,  whose  forte  was  folklore,  wrote  subsequently 
under  the  name  of  John  Dutfen,  and  in  the  Suffolk  dialect. 
The  only  Darter^^  a  storyette  styled  by  FitzGerald,  who 
reprinted  it  at  his  own  expense,  '  a  beautiful  Suffolk  idyll.' 
Another  visitor  at  Boulge  Cottage  was  the  Rev.  H.  S. 
Drew,   Crabbe's  curate.     Crabbe  and   Drew  might  have 

^  Rector  of  Monk  Soham  from  1845  ;    archdeacon  of  Suffolk  from  1 869  to 
1887.     He  died  19th  March  1889. 
*  Two  Suffolk  Friends. 
^  See  Two  Suffolk  Friends^  pp.  52  to  57. 


E.  B.  COWELL  217 

been  taken  bodily  out  of  Tristram  Shandy.  To  hear 
them  was,  to  FitzGerald,  better  than  a  play.  They 
differed  on  various  religious  points,  but  particularly  on 
infant  baptism — adult  baptism  being  in  Mr.  Crabbe's 
opinion  preferable,  while  Drew  was  a  psedo-baptist. 
They  took  long  walks  together,  and  most  of  the  way 
argued  loudly  and  with  heat  on  this  subject,  whilst 
Crabbe's  hat,  never  in  its  right  place,  would  work  round 
his  head  like  satellite  round  a  planet.  Thus  almost  every 
field  thereabouts  was  a  battlefield,  and  might  have  been 
marked  on  the  map  with  tiny  crossed  swords.  FitzGerald 
— a  capital  mimic — delighted  to  take  off  these  antagonists. 
'  Drew  and  Crabbe,'  he  would  begin,  '  have  been  taking  a 
walk  and  arguing  as  usual  upon  that  accursed  infant 
baptism.  Of  course  neither  could  convince  the  other,' 
and  then,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  all  present,  he  would 
imitate  their  speech,  gait,  and  gestures.  Indeed  when  in 
these  merry  moods  he  never  spared  his  closest  friends, 
and  Garrick  himself  was  not  more  deliciously  funny. 
Now  and  again  FitzGerald  used  to  visit  his  old  friend 
Major  Moor  at  Great  Dealings,  and  he  liked  to  sit  in 
the  Major's  snug  parlour  and  talk,  over  a  glass  of  Shiraz 
wine,  about  India  and  the  Hindu  gods. 

In  1845  Carlyle's  Cromwell  was  at  last  published,  but 
FitzGerald,  though  he  read  it  attentively,  proved  unim- 
pressible.  He  admired  certain  descriptive  passages  in 
the  work — that,  for  example,  about  the  battle  of  Dunbar, 
but  to  Cromwell  himself  was  not  drawn. 

About  1846  FitzGerald  became  acquainted  with  E.   B. 
Cowell,  then  a  young  man  of  twenty,  and  subsequently 
professor  of  Sanskrit  at  Cambridge.    Cowell  it   gg  g-  -q 
was  who  unlocked  for  FitzGerald  the  treasure-   Coweii. 
house  of  Persian   literature  and  showed  him   the  way  to 
immortality. 


2i8  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Born  at  Ipswich  in  1826,  Edward  Byles  Cowell,  eldest 
son  of  Mr.  Charles  Cowell,  corn-merchant,  was  brought 
up  to  his  father's  business.^  Having,  however,  a  turn 
for  books,  he  had  borrowed  from  the  Ipswich  Literary- 
Institute  the  Memoirs  of  the  Life^  Writings,  and  Corre- 
spondence of  Sir  William  Jones,  by  Lord  Teignmouth,^  a 
work  of  thirteen  volumes,  which  he  studied  with  assiduity, 
and  which  when  the  library  was  given  up  he  purchased. 
In  October  1841  his  father  gave  him  a  copy  of  the  number 
of  the  Edinburgh  Review  containing  Macaulay's  article  on 
Warren  Hastings,  but  the  boy  was  most  attracted  by  the 
list  of  new  works  advertised  at  the  end,  which  included 
An  Introduction  to  the  Grammar  of  the  Sanskrit  Lan- 
guage, for  the  use  of  early  students,^  by  H.  H.  Wilson, 
M.A.  'I  saved  up  my  pocket-money,'  said  Professor 
Cowell  to  me,*  '  and  I  bought  the  book  at  Christmas  and 
kept  it  by  me  as  a  future  hope.'  Every  Monday  he  went 
up  to  Mark  Lane,  but  his  thoughts  were  more  on  Virgil 
than  on  corn,  and  he  had  always  a  Latin  book  in  his 
pocket.  His  great  hope  was  to  get  money  in  business, 
and  then  devote  his  life  to  books  and  reading.  All  his 
plans,  however,  were  changed  upon  his  acquaintance  with 
Miss  Elizabeth  Charlesworth — 'the  elect  lady'  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's  letters — to  whom  he  presently  became  engaged. 
Cowell  was  absolutely  without  ambition,  and  never  dreamt 
of  striving  after  honour  ;  but  Miss  Charlesworth  had  am- 
bition enough  for  both.  Cowell  must  go  to  Oxford  and 
make  his  way.  So,  'a  man  of  wit  and  sense,'  as  Kirke 
White  would  have  called  him,  he  forsook  Mark  Lane  for 

1  These  facts  and  others  in  this  work  about  Cowell  have  not  before  been 
made  public.  Some  were  told  me  by  the  late  professor,  during  our  interview  in 
1 901.     Others  are  taken  from  his  letters  to  me. 

2  Published  1807. 

3  London,  1841. 

4  At  our  meeting  in  November  190 1. 


E.  B.  COWELL  219 

the  Aonian  Maids.  Together  (and  never  was  study  pur- 
sued more  delightfully)  he  and  Miss  Charlesworth  learnt 
the  Persian  characters  and  then  the  grammar.  This  was 
in  1845.  Next  year  they  went  through  Johnson's  Mahab- 
hdrata,  and  Cowell  made  some  translations  from  the 
Persian  poet  Hafiz,^  which  he  sent  to  FitzGerald,  who 
warmly  praised  them  and  expressed  the  hope  that  the 
labours  in  this  orey  mine  would  be  continued.  Hence- 
forth Cowell — 'a  judge  of  everything  while  pretending  to 
nothing '  ;  a  man  modest — nay  shy  ;  with  '  great  hidden 
humour';  with  a  'head  for  anything' — was  'my  dear 
Pundit,'  '  that  sheikh  of  mine.' 

The  acquaintance  formed  with  Cowell  was,  as  we  said, 
an  event  of  the  first  importance  to  FitzGerald.  But  for 
Cowell  there  would  have  been  no  learning  of  Persian, 
let  alone  the  writing  of  Omar  Khayyam.  Then  again,  as 
a  devout  student  of  the  Bible  and  an  optimist  profoundly 
endued  with  the  belief  that  our  lives  are  guided  by  an 
Almighty  hand,  Cowell  exercised  over  FitzGerald  just  the 
influence  then  needed.  It  was  the  alliance  of  the  doubter 
with  the  man  absolutely  without  doubt.  Cowell's  favourite 
text  is  alone  sufficient  to  reveal  him  to  us  :  '  This  God  is 
our  refuge  for  ever.  He  will  be  our  Guide  even  unto 
death.' 

In   April    1846   Carlyle  was  again   writing   about   that 
constantly  discussed,  but  never  erected,  stone  for  Naseby  ; 
and  in  October,  FitzGerald,  who  was  medi- 
tating Euphranor,  visited  his  old   rooms   in    Ed^gworth 
King's  Parade,  Cambridge,  to  find  the  same    12th  October 
prints   hanging    on    the   walls,   and    his   old 
hostess,    Mrs.    Perry,  unaltered.      On   his   way  back  he 
calls  at  Bury  St.  Edmunds  to  see  Donne,  hard-working 

^  Incorporated  by  Cowell  in  an  article  on  Hafiz  published  (anonymously)  in 
Fraser's  Magazine  for  September  1854. 

VOL.   I.  K 


220  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

and  uncomplaining  as  ever,  who  had  just  settled  there, 
and  to  have  a  look  at  the  old  school  in  Northgate  Street ; 
and  then  comes  news  of  the  death  of  Frank  Edgeworth, 
which  occurred  12th  October  1846.  'We  learned  next 
that  he  was  dead,'  comments  Carlyle,  'that  we  should 
see  him  no  more.  The  good  little  Frank.'  '  I  do  not  yet 
feel  half  so  sorry  as  I  shall  feel,' writes  FitzGerald.  'I 
shall  constantly  miss  him.'  Edgeworth's  half-sister,  'the 
great  Maria,'  had  about  three  more  years  to  live.^ 

In  January  1847  Carlyle  had  received  a  communica- 
tion from  a  William  Squire,  then  of  Yarmouth,  who 
70.  The  professed  to  have  in  his  possession  a  number 

'Squire'  of    letters    written    by   Cromwell.     As    Fitz- 

Papers. 

Kembieat         Gerald,  fond  of  the  company  of  sailors,  was 

Cassiobury.  often  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Yarmouth, 
Carlyle  asked  him  to  try  to  see  the  letters  ;  so  in  June 
FitzGerald  called  on  Squire,  whom  he  found  '  a  whole- 
some, well-grown,  florid,  clear-eyed,  open-browed  man ' 
of  about  thirty-eight, — a  choleric,  ingenuous  fellow,  a 
little  mad.  According  to  Squire,  an  ancestor  of  his,  who 
served  under  the  Parliament,  left  a  journal — between  two 
and  three  hundred  folio  pages  of  manuscript — includ- 
ing thirty-seven  letters  by  Cromwell.  Squire,  fearful — 
so  he  said — lest  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  his  family 
had  received  letters  from  Cromwell  should  get  abroad 
and  be  detrimental  to  their  interests,  first  copied  out  the 
letters,  and  then  put  the  manuscript  into  the  fire — a  cock- 
and-bull  story  which  FitzGerald,  after  sherry  and  biscuits 
(which  it  certainly  wanted),  came  away  believing.  An 
article  on  these  letters,  from  the  pen  of  Carlyle,  appeared 
in  Frasers  Magazme  for  December  1847,  the  name  of 
their  possessor  being  withheld.  The  critics,  however, 
who   had    the   letters   without    the   sherry   and   biscuits, 

^  She  died  22nd  May  1849. 


E.   B.  COWELL  221 

showed  themselves  sceptical,  and  many  pronounced  them 
forgeries.  Even  Carlyle  admitted  that  the  business  had 
an  amazing  look,  but  declared  that  personal  knowledge  of 
Squire,  who  had  called  twice  at  Cheyne  Row,  forced  him 
to  believe  in  the  'fundamental  authenticity '  of  the  man. 
Poor  FitzGerald  made  no  complaint  about  all  this,  so  far 
as  we  know  ;  but  it  must  have  seemed  to  him  on  the 
whole  less  agreeable  even  than  bone-digging  at  Naseby. 
The  curious  will  find  these  letters  at  the  end  of  volume  ii. 
of  Ci'omweWs  Letters  and  Speeches.'^  Another  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's  occupations  this  year  was  to  furnish  notes  for 
an  edition  of  the  Tahle-Talk  of  John  Selden,  edited  by 
S.  W.  Singer.  Of  Selden,  FitzGerald  says  in  Polonius, 
'  Here  we  find  wit,  humour,  fancy,  and  good  sense  alter- 
nating, something  as  one  has  heard  in  some  scholarly 
English  gentleman's  after-dinner  talk — the  best  English 
commonsense  in  the  best  common  English.'  There  is 
little  that  is  original  in  the  notes,  though  here  and  there 
FitzGerald  is  clearly  seen,  as,  for  example,  in  a  reference 
to  one  of  his  favourite  books.  Swift's  Tale  of  a  Tub,  of 
which,  he  suggests,  Selden's  passage,  '  Every  man  has 
a  doublet,'  etc.,  may  be  the  seed.  Selden  is  quoted  eight 
times  in  Polonius. 

Now  and  then  FitzGerald  still  met  *  Anglo-Saxon ' 
Kemble,  who,  living,  or  rather  languishing,  *  in  a  poor 
small  cottage  on  a  wild  corner  of  common  near  Cassio- 
bury,'^  was  trying  to  earn  bread  by  making  a  History  of 
the  Saxons.'-^  To  the  smart  man  of  business  he  must 
look  a  Simple  Simon  Kemble  as  well  as  an  Anglo-Saxon 
Kemble,  but  the  lover  of  learning  will  grieve  that  to  such 
a  man,  engaged  upon  so  important  a  work,  England 
could  offer  no  adequate  reward.    There  were  many  dunces 

^  Ashburton  Edition.  ^  Near  Watford,  Herts. 

^  Records  of  a  Later  Life,  by  Fanny  Kemble,  vol.  iii.  p.  151. 


222  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

receiving  high  salaries  for  doing  nothing,  while  J.  M. 
Kemble  toiled  hard  for  a  pittance  in  that  '  poor  small 
cottage '  at  Cassiobury. 

In    August    1847    FitzGerald    visited    first    his    sister 
Andalusia   (Mrs.    De   Soyres),    and    afterwards    his   old 

71.  Coweii's  college  chum,  the  Rev.  Francis  Duncan, 
marriage.  rector  of  West  Chelborough,  in  Dorset,  a 
quiet,  saturnine  man,  with  five  children  to  flurry  and  a 
pipe  to  soothe  him — the  Francis  Duncan  with  whom  in 
the  undergraduate  days  he  had  discussed  his  ambitions. 
In  October,  E.  B.  Cowell  was  married  to  Miss  Charles- 
worth,  their  honeymoon  at  Dover  being  spent  charac- 
teristically in  reading  Persian,  and  particularly  the 
Mahabharata.  FitzGerald  opened  the  new  year  (1848)  by 
reading  Thucydides,  delighting  especially  in  the  Fourth 
Book.  '  It  came  upon  me,'  says  he,  ^  come  stella  in  del, 
when  in  the  account  of  the  taking  of  Amphipolis  Thucy- 
dides comes  with  seven  ships  to  the  rescue.  .  .  .  This 
was  the  way  to  write  well,  and  this  was  the  way  to  make 
literature  respectable ' — that  is  for  the  historian  himself 
to  be  one  of  the  leading  figures  in  the  story. 

FitzGerald  took  great  interest  in  the  village  children, 

and  helped  both  in  the  school  at   Debach   and   that   at 

^.   ^     ,,    Bredfield.      At  Debach   he   taught  the  elder 

72.  FitzGerald  =* 

as  a  Teacher      children  and  the  youths  their  notes  from  the 

of  the  Bible.  blackboard  by  a  simple  method  of  his  own 
invention,  and  books  used  in  these  classes  may  still  be 
seen  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  natives  took  to  crotchets 
and  semibreves  as  ducks  to  water  ;  but  when  they  were 
asked  to  pronounce  differently  the  names  of  their  vil- 
ages  they  became  embarrassed.  '  You  should  pronounce 
Debach,'  FitzGerald  used  to  say,  '  as  it  is  spelt,  with 
the  accent  on  the  second  syllable,  not  Debbidge,  which 
is    not    at    all    pretty — sounds,    in    fact,    too    much    like 


E.  B.  COWELL  223 

cabbage.  Then  Boulge — why  don't  you  call  it  Boulge, 
with  a  long  **o"  and  a  silent  "u"?  Bow-widge,  another 
sort  of  cabbage,  is  horrible  ! '  To  please  him  they  all  tried 
— screwing  their  mouths  and  making  painful  contortions 
with  their  bodies,  but,  despite  their  good-will,  nothing 
but  Debbidge  and  Bow-widge  would  come  out. 

The  school  at  Bredfield  was  taught  by  a  Mrs.  Jasper, 
and  FitzGerald  and  Miss  Caroline  Crabbe  went  at  stated 
times  to  assist.  FitzGerald  gave  lessons  from  the  Bible, 
and  read  twice  a  week  from  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  ;  and 
Miss  Crabbe  used  to  write  letters  to  the  elder  children 
and  deliver  them  herself,  with  the  request  that  the 
receivers  would  reply  in  writing.  One  of  these  letters, 
written  to  Emma  Cole,  lies  before  me.  '  I  think,' 
says  Miss  Crabbe,  'writing  letters  is  a  very  good 
thing  for  all  of  you  that  can  do  it,  for  very  often, 
if  a  person  can  spell  words  perfectly  and  knows  what 
she  wants  to  say,  she  cannot  put  it  upon  paper.' 
With  Mrs.  Jasper  to  superintend,  FitzGerald  to  teach 
scripture,  and  Miss  Crabbe  to  encourage  English  com- 
position, Bredfield  school  was  privileged.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  FitzGerald's  back  was  turned  Mrs.  Jasper 
wasted  a  good  deal  of  time  gossiping  with  FitzGerald's 
old  woman,  the  redoubtable  Mrs.  Faire,  who  loved  to 
go  over  to  the  school,  in  her  huge  bonnet  crowded  with 
roses,  and  pass  the  time  of  day.  When  FitzGerald  was 
seen  coming  along  the  road  she  would  promptly  slip 
away,  leaving  behind  her  a  powerful  odour  of  snuff. 
Miss  Lucy  Barton  used  to  worship  at  Bredfield,  and 
after  the  evening  service  taught  the  Sunday-school, 
which  was  held  in  the  church.  How  soon  FitzGerald 
became  engaged  to  her,  or  whether  there  was  a  formal 
engagement,  or  merely  an  understanding,  is  not  known. 
Apparently  FitzGerald  did  not  consider  himself  engaged. 


224  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

On  26th  February  1848  FitzGerald  lost  his  old  friend 
Major  Moor,  who  died  at  Bealings  House.  They  carried 
him  down  that  winding  drive,  past  the  ugly 
Major  Moor  pyramidal  sarcophagus  full  of  gods,  to  the 
and  Bernard  church  to  which  he  and  the  Royal  George 
walking-stick  and  little  FitzGerald  had  so 
often  gone  together.  A  scholar  without  the  gift  of  ex- 
pressing himself  acceptably,  Moor  is  remembered  rather 
as  a  good  man  than  as  a  man  of  letters.  To  know  him 
was  to  love  him. 

The  remainder  of  the  year  was  spent  by  FitzGerald' 
in  his  usual  way,  either  at  Boulge  or  the  homes  of  his 
friends.  In  December  (1848)  his  mother  was  at  Brighton, 
and  Thackeray,  who  was  visiting  Brighton  too,  wrote 
in  high  spirits  to  FitzGerald  as  follows  (19th  December 
1848)  :  '  My  dear  old  Cupid, — I  did  not  come  to  see 
thee,  for  I  was  working  day  and  night  to  finish  that 
Xmas  affair,  and  the  few  spare  hours  I  had  went — R  ! 
never  mind  where — as  soon  as  the  book  and  Punch  and 
the  plan  for  Pendennis  were  done.  But  the  very  day 
when  somebody  left  town  I  came  down  to  this  Mireau 
Eboad.  And  am  directly  very  much  better.  I  slept 
well.  I  have  laughed  already  twice  this  morning.  I 
have  begun  Pendennis  uL,  and  have  leisure  to  think 
of  my  friend  and  wish  he  was  here.  Come,  Eros ! 
come,  boy-god  of  the  twanging  bow !  Is  not  Venus 
thy  mother  here?  Thou  shalt  ride  in  her  chariot,  and 
by  thy  side  shall  be,  if  not  Mars,  at  least  Titmars.  How 
these  men  of  letters  dash  off  these  things  !  c'est  eto^mant, 
ma  parole  d'honneitr,  c'est  etonnant.^  ^ 

Carlyle,  who  had   been  writing   on    the    Irish    in    The 
Examiner,"    mentions    in    a    letter    to    FitzGerald    that 

^  Unpublished  letter  in  possession  of  Rev.  E.  Kenworthy  Browne. 
'^  13th  May  1848. 


E.  B.  COWELL  225 

Thackeray,  owing  to  Vanity  Fair,  had  become  '  a  great 
lion,'  but  presently  FitzGerald  receives  a  letter  from 
Thackeray  beginning  '  My  dear  old  Yedward,'  and 
declaring  that  'all  about  being  a  lion  is  nonsense.' 
Two  or  three  prominent  people  ask  him  to  their  houses 
— nothing  more.^ 

The  health  of  Bernard  Barton,  which  had  for  years 
been  failing,  now  declined  rapidly.  He  had  never 
cared  much  for  exercise — indeed  he  took  '  almost  as  little 
as  a  milestone,'  but  now  he  rarely  went  beyond  the 
town.  He  still,  however,  fulfilled  his  daily  task  at  the 
Bank,  still  enjoyed  reading  Rob  Roy  or  The  Antiquary 
with  FitzGerald,  especially  on  a  Saturday  night.  He 
felt  no  acute  pain,  and  having  'a  skeely  doctor,'  a  good 
nurse,  and  kind  friends,  he  declined  to  fret.  Following 
the  advice  of  Lamb  and  Byron  he  had  clung  to  his 
Bank,  resolved,  as  he  said,  to  keep  on  making  figures 
till  Death  made  him  a  cipher.  On  the  19th  of  February, 
unable  to  get  to  the  Bank,  he  spent  most  of  the  day  on 
his  sofa,  but  chatted  with  callers  and  wrote  several  letters. 
In  the  evening,  after  conversing  cheerfully  with  a  friend, 
he  rose,  went  to  his  bedroom,  and  suddenly  rang  the 
bell.  When  his  daughter  obeyed  the  summons  she 
found  him  dying.  In  a  few  minutes  more  that  bene- 
ficent and  affectionate  heart  was  still  for  ever  —  so 
suddenly  did  Death  knock  at  the  door  of  Bernard 
Barton.  His  poems  are  now  forgotten,  but  Fame  robbed 
him  with  one  hand  only  to  reward  him  with  the  other, 
for  the  fact  of  his  intimate  friendship  with  Lamb  and 
FitzGerald  has  given  him  immortality.  Attended  by  a 
long  train  of  members  of  the  Society  of  Friends  and 
others.  Barton's  body  was  borne  up  the  street  to  the 
graveyard    of    the    Friends'    Meeting-house,    and    there 

'  Biographical  Edition  of  Thackeray,  vol.  i.  p.  35. 


226         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

lowered  into  its  final  resting-place,  a  service  being 
afterwards  held  in  the  chapel,  'when  three  or  four  very 
dull  but  good  people  spoke  in  a  way  that  would  have 
been  ludicrous  but  that  one  saw  they  were  in  earnest.'^ 
He  lies  in  a  spot  which  is  now  marked  by  a  small 
lichen-stained  stone  with  the  simple  inscription — 

Bernard  Barton 

DIED 

19   OF    2    MO.    1849 

AGED   65 

His  wife  Lucy,  who  had  died  forty-two  years  pre- 
vious, lies  un memorialed  a  few  feet  to  the  right.  The 
Friends'  Meeting-house  is  still  standing.  Oblong  in 
plan,  it  is  of  red  brick  coloured  white,  except  in  the  front, 
which  is  cemented,  and  has  a  tiled  roof.  The  interior 
is  divided  into  three  parts  :  the  chapel  proper,  a  vestry, 
and  a  schoolroom  above  the  vestry.  The  chapel  has 
two  galleries,  one  on  the  right  hand  and  one  on  the  left 
as  you  enter,  and  both,  as  well  as  the  benches  and  the 
other  fittings,  are  painted  white.  Standing  in  the  school- 
room we  read  the  motto  printed  in  bold  letters,  '  It  is  as 
much  a  Christian  duty  to  avoid  taking  offence  as  to  avoid 
giving  offence,'  and  it  was  as  if  the  Quaker  poet  had 
spoken  to  us.  The  portion  of  the  graveyard  that  is  not 
given  over  to  the  dead  grows  cabbages,  and  all  is  very 
quaint,  and  very  quiet,  and  old  world-like,  and  Bernard 
Barton  like.  To  the  Ipswich  Journal  of  24th  February 
FitzGerald  furnished  an  account  of  the  last  days  and 
death  of  his  amiable  friend,  and  in  the  same  paper  of 
3rd  March  a  paragraph  respecting  the  funeral,  followed 

1  FitzGerald. 


^fe. 


15ERNARIJ  liARTOX 
Frofii  a  painting  by  Satnuel  l.mvrcnct. 


I'l.ATE  XWI 


E.  B.  COWELL  229 

by  some  lines  of  particularly  feeble  verse.  Barton  having 
left  his  daughter  almost  unprovided  for,  FitzGerald,  who 
deeply  sympathised  with  her  position,  took  upon  himself 
to  edit  and  publish,  by  subscription,  for  her  benefit  a 
selection  from  her  father's  poems  and  letters.^  The  work 
is  dedicated  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Newton  Shawe  of  Kesgrave 
Hall,  who  are  described  as  friends  of  Bernard  Barton  ; 
and  the  memoir,  although  FitzGerald  speaks  of  it 
disparagingly,  is  a  masterpiece  of  its  sort.  The  sub- 
scription-list is  almost  as  interesting  as  the  memoir,  and 
shows  how  diligently  FitzGerald  strove  to  make  the  book 
a  pecuniary  success.  He  and  other  members  of  the 
FitzGerald  family  took  altogether  some  fifty  copies,  and 
the  names  of  his  friends  appear.  Thus  we  notice  Rev. 
W.  Airy,  Archdeacon  Allen,  Arthur  Biddell,  Major 
F.  C.  Brooke,  Mrs.  W.  K.  Browne  (Goldington  Hall, 
Bedford),  Edward  Cowell  (Bramford),  Miss  Crabbe, 
Dr.  Crowfoot,  Rev.  Thomas  Maude  (Hasketon).  Sped- 
ding  took  ten  copies,  and  the  receipt  of  the  parcel  is 
thus  acknowledged  in  an  unpublished  letter  ^  in  my 
possession  :  '  A  large  packet  arrived  .  .  .  looking  from 
its  shape  like  a  mighty  box  of  real  Havannahs,  and 
directed  to  J.  Spedding,  Esq.,  Mirehouse,  Whitehaven. 
Being  handled,  however,  it  no  longer  seemed  to  be  the 
baccy  that  I  hoped,  but  books.  What  books  should  they 
be  ?  Nobody  had  ordered  a  work  of  that  size,  and  if  any 
had  been  ordered  they  could  have  come  from  Carlisle, 
not  from  Whitehaven.  These  considerations  passed 
through  my  mind  while  I  was  untying  the  knot  of  a 
parcel,  and  it  is  a  weakness  with  me  never  to  use  a  knife 
till  I  am  beaten,  which  was  no  sooner  accomplished  than 
I  saw  how  it  was.     The  entire  ten  volumes  of  B.  B.' 

'  Selections  from  the  Poems  and  Letters  of  Bernard  Barton,  edited  by  his 
daughter,  1849.  ^  To  FitzGerald. 


230  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Soon  after  the  death  of  her  father,  Lucy  Barton  became 
companion  to  two  of  the  grand-nieces  of  Mr.  Hudson 
Gurney  of  Keswick  Hall,  Norwich,  where  she  stayed 
several  years.  The  facts  that  led  to  the  marriage  between 
her  and  FitzGerald  are  rather  befogged  ;  still  we  can  get 
some  idea  of  what  really  took  place.  The  prim  and  busy 
helpmeet  of  her  father,  the  enthusiastic  young  Sunday- 
school  teacher,  had  become  stereotyped  as  the  equally 
prim  and  busy  woman  with  a  gift  for  tract-distributing 
and  district  visiting.  A  submissive  man,  with  evangelical 
leanings,  would  have  found  her  a  model  wife,  but  she 
was  one  of  the  last  women  FitzGerald  should  have 
thought  of.  They  were  much  together  prior  to  Barton's 
death,  and  FitzGerald  certainly  made  to  Barton  some  kind 
of  promise  respecting  her,  which  Barton  and  she  under- 
stood to  mean  marriage,  but  which  FitzGerald  seems  to 
have  regarded  only  as  a  promise  to  see  that  she  was  never 
in  want.  However,  seven  years  were  to  elapse  before 
their  marriage. 

In  May  (1849)  came  the  news  of  the  death  of  Miss 
Edgeworth  (she  died  on  the  22nd).  Among  the  last 
words  that  left  her  pen  were  some  lines  expressing  the 
warmth  of  her  affection  for  Ireland,  and  the  remark,  '  Our 
pleasures  in  literature  do  not  decline  with  age  ;  last  ist 
of  January  was  my  eighty-second  birthday,  and  I  think 
that  I  had  as  much  enjoyment  from  books  as  I  ever  had.' 

In  June,  FitzGerald  is  reading  and  eulogising  Keats's 
letters  and  poems,  and  in  October  he  is  visiting  his  still 

^..   ^  .       superb  and  still  magfriificently  dressed  mother 

74.  The  Cot-  ^  b  J 

tageat  at  Ham,  near  Richmond,  a  spot  haunted  'by 

SpeddinVs        ^^^   memory  of  princes,  wits,  and  beauties.' 


Forehead  Writing  to  F.  Tennyson,  he  says  he  wishes 

he  were  at  that  poet's  elbow  so  as  to  advise 
what  verses  should  or  should  not  be  printed.     FitzGerald 


X 
X 


< 

J 


O 

fa 


< 


o 
o 


E.  B.  COWELL  233 

laid  claim  to  great  taste,  and  in  Poloniiis  observes,  '  Taste 
is  the  feminine  of  genius.'  The  name  of  philosopher  he 
repudiates,  as  one  undeserved  by  a  man  who  resents  the 
toothache.  This  same  year,  1849  (June  30th  to  August 
6th),  Carlyle  is  in  Ireland  and  stays  for  some  time  at 
Halverstown,  Kilcullen,  with  Mrs.  Purcell,  widow  of 
FitzGerald's  uncle  Peter. 

After  his  marriage,  Mr.  E.  B.  Cowell  went  to  reside 
in  a  little  house,  or  rather  cottage — for  there  were  only 
two  fair-sized  rooms  up  and  two  down — at  Bramford, 
near  Ipswich,  a  modest  brick  building  washed  with  stone- 
colour  ;  flower  garden  in  front,  fruit  garden  behind. 
The  windows  had  quaint-looking  red  Venetian  shutters, 
and  before  the  door  stood  a  little  monkey-tree — now  a 
very  large  monkey-tree,  as  tall  almost  as  the  house 
itself.  Over  the  front  clambered  a  japonica  (thickly 
studded,  when  I  was  there  one  May,  with  red  blossoms)  ; 
and  old-fashioned  flowers  such  as  gillivers,  London 
pride,  and  butter -of- witches,  the  last  in  great  yellow 
patches,  brightened  the  box-edged  beds.  The  surround- 
ing scenery  is  level  and  placid,  but  scarcely  picturesque 
save  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  river — the  Gipping, 
or,  as  FitzGerald  preferred  to  call  it,  as  more  poetical, 
the  Orwell,  a  name  which  the  children  of  men  bestow 
on  it  only  after  it  reaches  Ipswich.  Here  Cowell  and 
his  wife — for  Mrs.  Cowell  was  equally  enthusiastic  as 
a  student  —  studied  the  Greek  classics,  Spanish  and 
Persian.  FitzGerald  often  joined  them,  and  presently 
he  too  began  to  '  nibble '  at  these  languages.  His 
first-love  was  Spanish,  at  which,  helped  by  Cowell,  he 
was  working  sedulously  in  1850.  Years  later,  in  un- 
happy hours,  when  thinking  of  these  idyllic  scenes,  his 
two  beloved  friends,  the  cottage  with  the  monkey-tree, 
the    pellucid    river,    the    old    mill,    the   footpath    leading 


234  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

to  Ipswich,  Elmsett  village,  where  they  read  the  Magico 
together,  he  often  repeated  with  a  sigh  Moore's  lines, 
beginning — 

'  The  days  are  gone  when  Beauty  bright.' 

Cowell  delights  in  botany,  and  yearns  after 

'  Simples  with  preposterous  claims, 
And  with  yard-long  Latin  names,' 

and  is  happy  all  day,  as  is  FitzGerald  too,  out  of 
sympathy,  when  he  finds  some  new  plant.  Cowell  had 
a  hawk's  eye  for  singling  out  resemblances  in  literature. 
He  made  Job  with  his  mallows  by  the  bushes  (chapter 
XXX.)  illustrate  Don  Quixote^  and  facetiously  compared 
Hatifi's  Haft  Paikar,  a  poem  on  the  seven  castles  of 
Bahram  Gur,  with  Corporal  Trim's  unfinished  tale  of 
*  The  Seven  Castles  of  the  King  of  Bohemia.'  Every- 
thing in  that  smiling  cottage  was  riveted  on  FitzGerald's 
memory — the  green  ribbon  in  Mrs.  Cowell's  hair,  the 
slippers  (Cowell's)  he  used  to  wear,  even  '  Keziah's 
cakes.'  To  all  three — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowell  and  Fitz- 
Gerald— everything  at  Bramford  was  iridescent,  romantic, 
delightful.  Mrs.  Cowell  wrote  poems — pretty  but  diffuse; 
FitzGerald  revised  them.  Cowell  and  FitzGerald  sat 
with  their  heads  together  over  some  entrancing  Spanish 
or  Persian  poem,  and  to  FitzGerald  (looking  back  in 
after  years)  it  was  a  Salaman  and  Absal  existence  ; 
and  the  little  garden  in  the  rear  grew  apples  as  rosy 
as  those  that  Absal's  taper  fingers  had  gathered.  How 
often  he  thought  of  that  room  in  which  they  used  to 
sit  and  study  !  To  other  eyes  its  furniture  might  seem 
plain,  but  to  him,  '  Oh  the  ebony  !  oh  the  gold  ! '  It 
might  have  been  an  apartment  in  a  palace  of  the 
C^sars,   instead   of  a  poor   little    room  in   a   poor   little 


E.  B.  COWELL  235 

house  with  a  poor  little  newly  planted  monkey-tree  in 
front.  It  was  well  that  FitzGerald  enjoyed  Bramford, 
with  all  its  colour,  sunshine,  warmth,  phantasm,  and 
glamour,  for  a  sable  enough  time  was  in  store  for  him 
— sunless  gloom,  aching  heart,  hideous  days,  sleepless 
nights.  It  was  to  be  a  drop  from  mountain  heights  to 
profoundest  abysses.  During  one  of  FitzGerald's  visits  to 
Bramford  (in  1850),  Spedding,  '  that  aged  and  most  subtle 
serpent,'  leaving  his  hole  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  and 
bringing  with  him  evidence  of  both  his  pursuits  (Bacon 
in  brain,  and  a  charge  of  shot  in  one  leg),  came  down 
to  join  them.  As  usual  he  was  witty  and  illuminating  ; 
indeed,  wherever  he  went  he  left  his  aura  and  a  sort  of 
Platonic  perfume.  A  willow  near  the  old  mill  at  Bram- 
ford, under  which  he  explained  the  laws  of  reflection  and 
refraction  in  water,  w^as  thenceforward  called  *  Spedding's 
Willow,'  and  FitzGerald  could  never  see  it  without  re- 
calling him.  The  mill  itself  brought  to  FitzGerald's 
mind  Tennyson's  poem,  'The  Miller's  Daughter,'  and 
often  after  in  imagination  he  would  lie 

'  Beside  the  mill-wheel  in  the  stream, 
While  Spedding's  Willow  whispers  by.' 

He  also  amused  himself  with  the  idea  that  Spedding  in 
face  resembled  Shakespeare,  declaring  that  he  ought  to 
have  edited  Shakespeare,  in  which  case  one  frontispiece 
would  have  served  for  author  and  editor.  The  resem- 
blance, however,  was  chiefly  in  the  high  forehead  and 
the  bald  crown,  both  of  which  were  a  constant  provoca- 
tive of  fun  with  FitzGerald  and  his  friends.  Fanny 
Kemble  speaks  of  *  the  white,  round  object  which  is  the 
head  of  him,'  and  Thackeray,  who  pretended  that  he 
could  find  it  somehow  or  other  in  all  things,  drew  it 
rising    '  with   a   sober   light   over   Mont   Blanc,   and    re- 


2r,6  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 


fleeted  in  the  lake  of  Geneva.'  Instead  of  Spedding-,  it 
was  the  forehead  ;  Spedding  was  swallowed  up  in  the 
forehead.  FitzGerald  begged  Frederick  Tennyson  to 
hasten  back  to  London,  that  they  might  sit  together 
'  under  the  calm  shadow  of  Spedding's  forehead.'  When 
in  1842  Spedding  accompanied  Lord  Ashburnham  to 
America  as  private  secretary,  FitzGerald  burst  out  with, 
'  Of  course  you  have  read  the  account  of  Spedding's 
forehead  landing  in  America.  English  sailors  hail  it 
in  the  Channel,  mistaking  it  for  Beachy  Head.'  Later, 
FitzGerald  felt  sure  Spedding  was  safe,  believing  that 
to  scalp  such  a  forehead  was  beyond  any  Indian's  power. 
On  his  return  from  America,  Spedding  had  thrown  him- 
self heart  and  soul  into  the  labour  of  his  life,  the  editing 
of  Bacon  ;  a  task  to  which  he  was  so  devoted  that  in 
1847  he  refused  an  under-secretaryship  and  ^2000  a 
year  in  order  to  be  able  to  give  the  whole  of  his  time 
to  the  work. 

FitzGerald  had  not  seen  Donne,  who  still  lived  at 
Bury,  for  nearly  a  year,  but  letters  passed,  and  he  read 
of  one  event  there  with  extreme  interest,  the  celebration, 
on  the  2nd  of  August  1850,  of  the  three  hundredth 
anniversary  of  his  old  school.  The  sermon  was  preached 
by  Dr.  Blomfield,  Bishop  of  London,  a  former  scholar, 
and  *our  Donne'  presided  at  the  banquet  afterwards  in 
the  Assembly  Rooms. 

In  the  letter  of  31st  December  1850  to  F.  Tennyson, 
FitzGerald  says  :  '  The  delightful  lady  '  (Mrs.  Cowell)  *  is 
75  Cowell  fe'^'^g'  to  leave  this  neighbourhood  and  carry 
goes  to  her  young  husband  to  Oxford,  there  to  get 

him  some  Oriental  professorship.'  This  re- 
moval took  place  a  few  days  later,  in  January  185 1. 
When  Cowell  was  gone  FitzGerald  grew  doleful.  His 
heart  sickened  when  he  thought  of  Bramford  all  desolate. 


E.  B.  COWELL  237 

Said  he,  '  I  shall  now  almost  turn  my  head  away  as 
any  road,  or  railway,  brings  me  within  sight  of  the  little 
spire.'  ^ 

In  185 1   FitzGerald  published  Euphranorr-     Like  Plato 
and  Digby — and  his  indebtedness  to   both   has   already 
been  pointed  out — he   *  took  the  great  pass- 
port  of  poetry  in  order  to  enter  into  the  gates  'Euphranor.' 
of  popular  judgment.'      The  companionship 
of  Williani—Kgnworthy  Browne  —  that  modern   Bayard, 
chevalier  sans  peiir  et  sans  reproche — a  man  who,  as  we 
have  seen,  combined  useful  study  with  vigorous  exercise, 

had  forced  upon  FitzGerald  the  belief  that  the  ordinary 

«~— — - — - — ^ 

Student  pored  over  his  books  far  too  much.  In  the 
small  seminarieSi_at  the  great  public  schools,  and  even 
at  Cambridge_and  Oxford,  atWetEsIwere  in  those  days 
practically  unknown.  A  student  at  Cambridge  could 
take  a  walk  into  the  country  or  indulge  in  a  little  boat- 
ing, and  that  was  all.  Cricket,  football,  and  other 
sports,  which  to-day  are  probably  overdone,  had  then 
comparatively  few  votaries.  University  men  were  of 
two  kinds :  the  close-working,  pale,  dwindled  student, 
and  the  idler.  What  is  wanted,  asseverated__FjtzGerald, 
is  for  men  to  combine  study  and  exercise  judicious|yj— 
tCL.be^JxLshort,  fine,  healthy7~edircateg^nglishmen,not 
peaky^  etiolated^, angujaTj^ lank-haired  littje_beings  IfiJL 
only  to  have  their  necks  wrung.'  FitzGeraldjwgiild^ 
not  Eieep^  child  TnHobrs  just^becausethe  ground  is_4a 
little  damp  or  the  sky  lowering — far  better  to  rough  it 
somewhat ;  and  he  thought  a  sounding  slap  and 
*  Don't  do  so  any  more '  far  better  than  shutting  up  all 


'  Letters  (Macniillan). 

*  None  of  the  facts  which  relate  to  the  origin  of  Euphranor  have  before  been 
published.  They  were  discovered  by  me  when  I  went  through  the  Browne 
manuscripts  and  books. 


238         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

day  in  a  bedroom.  How  he  pitied  the  wretched  child 
committed  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Educational 
Skythrops,  who  gave  his  pupils  ten  hours  a  day  of 
grammar,  etc.,  and  by  way  of  recreation  two  hours' 
daily  walk  and  conversation  with  himself  and  his  sallow 
and  consumptive-looking  pupils !  Then  he  would  im- 
prove Eton  with  '  good  military  drill,  with  march  and 
counter-march,'  and  encampment  by  Father  Thames, 
and  by  giving  the  boys,  in  addition  to  the  playground, 
'a  piece  of  arable  to  work  in,'  instancing  the  fact  that 
Hugh  Latimer  wrought  with  his  father's  hinds  in 
Leicestershire.  All  young  men,  he  held,  should  be 
taught  not  only  to  ride  *  Dobbin,'  but  to  saddle  him, 
get  a  collar  over  his  head,  the  crupper  over  his  tail — 
and  without  awkwardness  ;  in  short,  to  arm  themselves 
against  contingencies,  and  especially  against  those 
minor  trials  of  life  which  are  so  hard  to  encounter  be- 
cause of  their  frequency.  The  atmosphere  about  a  man 
would  then  be  a  far  more  invigorating  one  than  could 
be  created  by  closet-loads  of  poetry,  metaphysics,  and 
divinity.  More  of  the  animal,  less  of  the  rational !  His 
ideal  poets  are  Chaucerj_I^rho]^coindride_Jfe^ 
al^ady  ^^Bofn^Tiim  wellhin  chevachie '  and  done  business 
as^-aTPamBassadui  ;   sm^TSilinsZS^hiinot  only  sang  but 


ploughed;  his  Jdeal  historians.  Gibbon,  who--eaptained 
a  body  of  Hampshire^ militia,  jjidJIhucydides,  who_cQm— 
manded  ships^'aT-Tfeasos^^^He  liked  the  studious  man 
to  be,  not  sickly,  irritable,  inactive,  and  solitary,  but 
sound  in  wmd  and  limb,  mind  and  body — such^  one, 
for  example,  as  PhidippHsipSL-Ken worthy  Browne),  who 
now  comes  riSmg  in  on  his  glorious  mare  of  illustrious 
pedigree,  Miss  Middleton.     When  questioned  concerning 

^  Cf.  Carlyle's  remark  in  Hero-  Wofship :   '  The  poet  who  does  nothing  but 
sit  on  a  stool  and  write  poetry  will  never  write  a  poem  worth  reading.' 


E.  B.  COWELL  239 

some  of  those  equestrian  difficulties  which  had  been  the 
subject  of  dispute,  Phidippus  treats  all  as  banter,  and 
pretends  he  is  no  judge — I  must  ask  older  hands,  and 
so  forth.  After  giving  his  mare  in  charge  to  the  hostler, 
with  due  directions  as  to  her  toilet  and  table,  he  took 
off  the  saddle  and  bridle  himself  and  adjusted  the  head- 
stall, and  on  the  way  out  asked,  *  Was  she  not  a 
beauty?'  for  he  persisted  in  the  delusion  that  his  com- 
panion knew  more  of  the  matter  than  he  chose  to  admit. 

Two  other  features  of  Browne's  character  also  come 
out  in  this  dissertation  :  A"st  his  lack  of  taste  for  sporting 
ladies,  and  secondly  hisenflnrsrasm— for  bowls.  After 
the  game  at  the  'Three  Tuns,'  Browne,  who  ranks  him- 
self among  'the  best  of  us,'  instructs  Lexilogus  'in 
the  mystery  of  bias.'^  The  identity  of  Lycion  is  un- 
revealed,  and  Lexilogus,  though  a  Cowperian,  was,  we 
are  told  by  FitzGerald  himself,  not  Donne.  Later,  in 
answer  to  some  questions  of  W.  F.  Pollock's  relative 
to  Euphranor  and  the  Calderon  translations  of  1853, 
FitzGerald  observes,  '  Wishing  to  do  something  as  far 
as  I  could  against  a  training  system  of  which  I  had 
seen  many  bad  effects,  I  published  the  little  dialogue.' 
Three  of  his  friends — Spedding,  Cowell,  and  Donne — 
endeavoured,  each  in  his  own  way,  to  bring  the  merits 
of  the  work  before  the  public ;  but  no  great  success 
rewarded  their  efforts.  Even  FitzGerald  himself  speaks 
of  it  disparagingly,  calling  it  '  a  pretty  specimen  of 
chiselled  cherry-stone.'  But  at  the  time  he  wrote  it  he 
was  thoroughly  in  earnest,  and  many  years  after,  reflect- 
ing on  the  story  of  Carlyle's  youth  and  early  manhood, 
he  says,  'Ah!  it  is  from  such  training  that  strength 
comes,  not  from  luxurious  fare,  easy-chairs,  cigars,   Pall 

^  Bowls  was  a  favourite  game  at  Goldington,  Mrs.  Browne's  father   having 
been  one  of  the  best  players  in  England. 

VOL.  I.  L 


240  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Mall  Clubs,  etc.  It  has  all  made  me  think  of  a  very 
little  dialogue  I  once  wrote  on  the  matter.'  Of  the 
copy  of  Euphranor  which  FitzGerald  presented  to 
Browne,  and  which  supplied  me  with  the  key  to  that 
production,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  later. 
While  FitzGerald  was  publishing  Euphranor^  Carlyle 
was  finishing  his  delicate  and  delightful  Life  of  Sterlings 
and  pondering  the  advisability  of  undertaking  the  Life 
of  Frederick  the  Great.  Years  later  (23rd  October  1870), 
FitzGerald  spoke  thus  pleasantly  ot  to"ur  of  Carlyle's 
works  :_  ^  Hero-  Worship— \  seemed  to  hear  you  talking 
to  me  ...  in  that  lecture-room.^  Sterling's  Life  talks 
to  me  also  ;  and  so  does  Cromwell,  and  the  old  monk  of 
St.  Edmunds  [Past  and  Present^ — they  all  do  ;  but  these 
perhaps  most  agreeably  to  me.' 

FitzGerald,  who  had  used  his  eyes  injudiciously,  sitting 
up  till  midnight  reading  by  a  paraffin  lamp,  now  found 

Aif  d  ^^^^  they  were  giving  him  trouble  ;  so  in 
Smith,  Bouige  order  to  save  them,  he  hit  on  the  expedient 
Kea  er.  ^^  having  a  boy  reader.     His  choice  (not  a 

difficult  choice,  since  there  was  no  one  else  available) 
fell  on  Mr.  Job  Smith's  son  Alfred,  from  that  snug 
Hall  Farm.  Alfred,  now  grown  a  big  lad,  did  not 
much  care  about  the  occupation  (found  it  slow,  indeed, 
compared  with  bird's-nesting  and  tearing  his  knicker- 
bockers), but  FitzGerald  liked  him,  and,  as  the  lad  loved 
FitzGerald,  everything  went  pleasantly.  Alfred  also  took 
to  FitzGerald's  Skye  terrier  'Ginger,'  'whose  eyes  you 
couldn't  see  owing  to  his  long  hair ' — the  successor  of 
'  Bletsoe '  ;  and  he  honoured  old  John  Faire  as  the  man 
who  had  fought  against,  and  afterwards  kept  an  eye  on, 
Napoleon.  Mrs.  Faire  (notwithstanding  her  gay  bonnet) 
was   his    abhorrence.       He    '  never  could   enjoy   his   tea 

1  Edward  Street,  Portman  Square  ;  May  1838. 


E.  B.  COWELL  241 

there,  she  took  snuff  so.'  Sometimes  FitzGerald  carried 
his  young  friend  up  to  London  to  see  the  sights  and  to  eat 
suppers  at  Evans's,^  treating  him  'more  like  a  nephew 
than  "an  acquaintance '  ;  for,  lonely  man,  *  he  was  full  of 
love,  and  yearned  for  some  one  on  whom  to  bestow  it.' 
FitzGerald's  object  in  having  Alfred  Smith  at  Boulge 
Cottage  was  perhaps  as  much  to  do  the  boy  good  and 
help  him  with  his  education  as  anything  else — at  least, 
so  Alfred  himself  believed.  The  talk  was  chiefly  abou/ 
the  books  they  read.^  FitzGerald  was  much  interested  iL 
cremation,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  earliest  thorough- 
going advocates  in  England  ;  and  he  frequently  inveighed 
against  the  follies  of  vaults,  brick  graves,  and  lead  coffins, 
and  insisted  that  no  method  of  disposal  of  the  bodies  of 
the  dead  could  compare  with  that  of  burning.  He  advo- 
cated it  for  two  reasons  :  first  from  a  sanitary  point  of 
view  ;  and  secondly,  because  it  would  do  away  with  the 
horror  of  being  buried  alive,  of  which  he  himself  was 
always  in  dread.  'Better  far,'  he  said,  'be  reduced  in  a 
few  moments  to  ashes  than  run  such  a  terrible  risk.'  On 
this  subject  he  would  dilate  all  through  life,  and  most  of 
his  friends  have  heard  him  express  himself  forcibly  on  it. 

Meanwhile  things  were  fast  going  wrong  at  the  Man- 
chester colliery.  The  elder  FitzGerald  had  hazarded  his 
all,  and  Squire  Jenny  had  put  into  the  con-  ^o  r  1^ 
cern  something  like  ;i^5o,ooo.  For  years  of  FitzGerald's 
those  engines,  forcing -pumps,  ventilating  ^  "' 
shafts,  chimneys,  blind  pits,  cages,  and  what  not,  had 
been  to  those  two  unfortunate  and  unhappy  men  an 
incubus  and  a  horrible  nightmare, — still  success  had  for 

^  Concert  and  dining-rooms,  Covent  Garden.  See  Cassell's  Old  and  New 
London,  vol.  iii.  p.  252. 

'■^  The  information  on  this  subject  was  furnished  me  by  Mr.  Alfred  Smith, 
with  whom  I  spent  several  days  at  Lowestoft  in  October  1902. 


242  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

some  time  seemed  possible.     But  matters  went  from  bad 
to  worse, — what  the   particulars  were,   or  what  was  the 
immediate  cause  of  the  collapse,  does  not  concern  this 
history.       It  is  enough  for   us  to   know  that   the   crash 
came,  and  to  imagine  the   effect  of  it  not  only  on  the 
*  blundering  Irishman '  who  brought  it  about,  but   also 
on  his  family,  the  wretched  Squire  Jenny  and  his  poor 
parsimonious  sister  Anne  (now  with  much  need  of  her 
parsimony),   who   fared  worst   of   all.      A  chariot   '  with 
daffodil  wheels '  (window  open  for  fresh  air)  drove  one 
morning  wildly  into  Playford   and    stopped    at  the  door 
of  Mr.   Arthur  Biddell.       It  was  Squire  Jenny's.      The 
old   gentleman  rushed  into  the  house   crying,    *  Biddell, 
I  want  your  advice.      I  'm  in  a  devil   of  a  mess  !      I  'm 
ruined  !  '     And  he  said  but  the  truth.     Everything  was 
swallowed   up   in    that    relentless    vortex.       FitzGerald's 
father  was  terribly  troubled  ;  he  felt  for  himself,  and  he 
felt  for  the  poor  friend  whom  he  had  dragged  down  with 
him.     It  was  the  death  of  both.     A  few  months  more 
and  each  was  in  his  grave.     Mrs.  FitzGerald's  property 
was  safe,  but  everything  else  had  to  come  to  the  hammer. 
The  sale  at  the  Hall  lasted  six  days.     Of  this  period  of 
stress  and  strain  Edward  says  little,  but  he  felt  deeply. 
Perhaps  he  grieved   most  for  Squire  Jenny.     Owing  to 
the  serious  reduction  in  his  income  (his  allowance  from 
his  father  having,  of  course,   suddenly  ceased),  he  now 
called  on  Miss  Barton   in  order  to  discuss  their  future. 
After  weighing  a  good  deal   of   conflicting  evidence,    I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  what  took  place  was 
this  :  FitzGerald  said  to  Miss  Barton,  *■  I  have  promised 
to  see  that  you  shall  never  want,  and  I  hope,  in  spite  of 
our   misfortune,    to   keep    that    promise.'      Miss   Barton 
pointed  out  that  she  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  there 
was  an  engagement  between  them.     '  You  misunderstood 


E.  B.  COWELL 


243 


me,'  said  FitzGerald,  'and  I  am  glad  now  I  never 
intended  an  engagement,  for  my  present  poverty  would 
make  it  imperative  that  I  should  give  you  permission  to 
release  yourself.'  'I  have  no  wish  to  be  released,' 
replied  Miss  Barton,  'the  change  in  your  circumstances 
makes  no  difference  to  me.'^ 

Misfortunes  never  come  singly,  and  during  the  sale. 
Hall  Farm  (Mr.  Job  Smith's  house)  caught  fire  and  was 
burned  to  the  ground.  The  Hall  being  empty,  Mr.  Smith 
and  his  family  (including  Alfred,  the  reader)  came  to 
reside  there,  and  stayed  about  two  years.  Among  their 
visitors  was  Miss  Anna  Biddell  (daughter  of  Mr.  Arthur 
Bidden  of  Playford  and  that  Mrs.  Biddell  who  wrote 
verses  and  entertained  the  wits  and  poets  of  Suffolk). 
FitzGerald  used  to  say  that  he  had  three  Annies:  'the  tall 
Annie,'  Miss  Anna  Biddell;  'the  other  tip-top  Annie,' 
Annie  Thackeray,  now  Mrs.  Ritchie;  and  'the  short 
Annie,'  Miss  Annie  Kerrich.  Anna  Biddell  and  her 
brother  Herman  presently  became  FitzGerald's  intimate 
friends.  So  Hall  Farm  and  its  thatch,  and  that  cosy 
chimney-nook  where  Sir  Robert  Peel's  speeches  had  been 
read,  all  going  up  in  flame  and  smoke  was  not  entirely 
a  misfortune. 

Squire  Jenny,  whose  health  had  been  shattered  by  the 
Pendleton  colliery  failure,  was  now  nearing  his  end,  and 
FitzGerald,  who  was  at  this  time  much  from   ^    ^^    ,^   , 

79.  Death  of 

home,  wrote  frequently  to  inquire  after  him.    Squire  Jenny, 
When  Mrs.  Maude  of  Hasketon  2  asked  the    '^^'' 
Squire  whether  he  was  going  to  'the  Great  Exhibition,' 

^  Said  Mr.  Herman  Biddell  to  me  :  '  They  were  engaged  in  Barton's  life- 
time, and  when  FitzGerald's  father  became  bankrupt,  FitzGerald,  who  for  a 
time  was  in  poverty,  asked  Miss  Barton  to  release  him,  but  she  refused.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  FitzGerald  did  not  consider 
himself  engaged  to  Miss  Barton  at  this  time.' 

-  Wife  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Maude. 


244  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

he  said  *  No.  The  Illustrated  London  News  will  tell  me 
all  I  want  to  know.'  Contrary  to  advice,  however,  and 
exhibiting  his  natural  bias  to  the  end,  he  attended  the 
Newmarket  Meeting  in  the  first  week  in  July,  and  there 
caught  a  chill.  On  his  return,  passing  through  a  hay- 
field  at  Hasketon,  he  said,  '  I  shall  never  see  the  hay  put 
in  cocks  again,'  and  a  few  days  later  he  was  dead.  The 
gospel  of  the  open  window  did  not,  however,  with  his 
departure,  cease  to  be  preached  in  Suffolk  ;  his  disciple  (in 
that  respect)  Edward  FitzGerald  continued  the  propaganda 
both  by  practice  and  precept.  As  every  one  had  ex- 
pected. Squire  Jenny's  estate  was  found  to  be  hopelessly 
involved,  and  in  order  to  pay  expenses  the  magnificent 
woods  that  had  been  FitzGerald's  terror  as  a  child  and 
his  delight  as  a  man,  were  cut  down — a  loss  always 
deplored.  The  famous  hampers  in  the  attic  were  opened, 
and  there  sure  enough  was  the  antique  china,  and  in 
abundance,  but  all  broken  to  fragments.  And  so  ends 
the  melancholy  history  of  the  poor,  jovial,  old  horsy 
Squire.^  His  sister,  who  survived  him,  lapsed  into 
second  childishness,  but  found  her  chief  pleasure,  as 
aforetime,  in  hoarding  up  whatever  money  she  could  get 
— amusing  herself  towards  the  last  by  rubbing  the  coins 
to  keep  them  bright. 

Some  time  this  year  FitzGerald  invited  Fanny  Kemble^ 

to   be   his    guest,    and    to    give    a    reading    at    Wood- 

bridg-e.      Very    anxious    that     the    occasion 

80,  Fanny  ^  ^ 

Kembieat  should  be  a  success,  and  that  Woodbridge 
yf.°°^Jl"'^f^-     and    neighbourhood   should   show  to  advan- 

Miss  Maude.  '^^ 

tage,    FitzGerald    called   on   his   friends   and 
told    them    their    duty.      Among    these    was    the    Rev. 

^  There  is  a  stained  glass  window  to  him  in  Hasketon  church. 

"^  She  went  to  America  in  1832,  married  in  1834  Mr.  Pierce  Butler,  a 
southern  planter,  and  was  divorced  from  him  in  1848,  when  she  resumed  her 
maiden  name. 


E.  B.  COWELL  245 

Thomas  Maude  of  Hasketon.  *  Mrs.  Kemble — the  great 
Fanny  Kemble,'  said  he,  'is  coming  to  Woodbridge. 
Now,  you  must  put  on  all  your  finery,  all  your  jewels, 
and  come  to  hear  her.'  Whereupon  Mr.  Maude's  little 
daughter  Cordelia^  spoke  up  promptly:  '  I  haven't  a  jewel 
in  the  world  ;  but  you  have  a  ring '  (pointing  to  a  gold 
ring  with  a  square  emerald  which  he  was  wearing). 
*  Lend  it  to  me.' 

'  Well,'  he  replied,  '  I  won't  lend  you  the  ring  :  I  '11  give 
it  you,  as  your  very  own.'  Cordelia  seized  it  with  an 
exclamation  of  delight,  and  dashed  upstairs,  fearful  lest 
he  should  repent  of  his  rashness  and  want  it  back  again. 

The  room  chosen  for  the  readings  was  the  Lecture- 
Hall  near  St.  John's  Church.  There  was  a  crowded 
audience,  and  when  Mrs.  Kemble  came  on  the  platform 
and  curtsied,  FitzGerald  got  up  and  bowed  to  her.^ 
His  example  being  immediately  followed  by  the  whole 
room,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised,  amused,  and 
confused.  Then — something  still  more  wonderful  for  so 
shy  a  man — he  mounted  the  platform,  and  in  a  few 
graceful  words  introduced  her  to  the  audience.  Needless 
to  say,  the  readings  were  received  with  intense  delight, 
and  her  singing  of  '  Oh  dear!  what  can  the  matter  be?' 
was  never  forgotten. 

The  next  time  FitzGerald  was  at  Hasketon  he  said  to 
Cordelia  Maude,  '  How  about  that  ring?' 

'It's  quite  safe,  thank  you,'  replied  the  young  lady, 
showing  it  on  her  finger,  but  not  going  too  near  him. 

'  Don't  sell  it,'  said  FitzGerald  gravely,  'and  don't  give 
it  away.     But  you  may  pawn  it.' 

On  one  occasion  at  Hasketon  he  spoke  eulogistically 
of    Vanity  Fair,    and   asked    Mrs.    Maude  whether    she 

^  She  married  Colonel  Barlow  of  Hasketon. 

*  See  Further  Records,  by  Francis  A.  Kemble,  vol.  ii.  p.  i66. 


246  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

had  read  it.     'Oh,  no,'  she  replied,  'I  should  not  care 
for  it.' 

*  I  will  send  it  over,  if  you  like  to  try  it ' ;  then  to 
Cordelia,  'You're  much  too  young  to  read  it.'  This 
excited  the  young  lady's  curiosity,  and  she  and  her 
brother  set  off  to  Boulge  Cottage,  found  the  book,  and 
carried  it  off.  Having  discovered  his  loss,  FitzGerald 
promptly  made  his  way  back  to  Hasketon,  and  after 
speaking  to  the  culprit  with  much  severity,  and 
thoroughly  frightening  her,  concluded  his  remarks 
with  :  '  If  you  had  asked  me,  I  would  have  promised 
to  lend  you  the  book  when  you  were  old  enough.'  To 
Cordelia  Maude,  FitzGerald  paid  what  was  in  his  lips  a 
glowing  compliment.  He  said  that  she  never  grew  to  be 
a  woman.  Like  his  friend  Browne,  she  remained  ever 
youthful,  with  all  youth's  beautiful  characteristics  (and  a 
few — a  very  few — of  its  faults).  Had  he  written  a 
Euphranor  for  young  women,  she  might  have  stood  in 
the  foreground,  not  as  Phidippus,  but  Phidippa — a  type 
of  beautiful  and  practical,  if  impulsive,  womanhood. 

In  February  1852  FitzGerald  paid  a  long-promised  visit 
to  Prees  Vicarage,  near  Shrewsbury,  to  see  Archdeacon 
Allen,  though  he  dreaded  the  journey,  and 
Archdeacon  said  that  Mr.  Churchyard's  son  Tom  made 
F^b"'  8  ^^^^  ^"^^  about  a  prospective  journey  to  New 
Zealand.^  Archdeacon  Allen  was  one  of  those 
noble-minded  men  who  are  at  once  the  pride  of  the  church 
and  the  delight  of  all  who  come  into  touch  with  them. 
No  man  feared  God  more  or  man  less.  He  lived  with 
God.  Sin  was  sin  to  him  ;  there  was  no  palliating  it. 
The  '  mockery  of  drunkenness  '  in  Dickens's  novels  was 
'terrible  to  him.'     From  his  house  could  be  seen  most 

^  In  the  letters  FitzGerald  by  mistake  says  'America.'    Thomas  Churchyard 
died  in  New  Zealand  about  ten  years  ago. 


E.  B.  COWELL  247 

of  the  nearer  Welsh  hills  in  a  hood  of  haze  ;  he  knew  all 
their  names  and  would  point  them  out.  Beautiful  scenery 
entranced  him.  Before  such  he  would  sometimes  stand  with 
uncovered  head  in  silence,  'as  if  in  the  presence  of  God.' 
He  was  not  blind  to  his  own  imperfections,  but  comforted 
himself  with  a  saying  of  his  own,  '  The  road  to  heaven  is 
made  up  of  resolutions  made,  broken,  and  renewed.' 

His  hair,  formerly  raven  black,  was  now  turning  grey  ; 
presently  it  became  snowy  white,  contrasting  strangely 
with  his  shaggy  black  eyebrows,  which  retained  their 
original  colour.  Folios — he  was  a  folio  of  a  man  himself 
(six  feet  one  in  boots) — were  still  his  love.  Charles  Lamb 
was  not  more  passionately  attached  to  these  '  huge  arm- 
fuls.'  FitzGerald  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  visit,  becoming 
quite  popular  with  the  children,  especially  with  a  mite 
of  six,  whom  he  dubbed  'Little  Ticket,'  and  he  adapted 
a  French  play  (probably  one  of  Moliere's)  for  their  per- 
formance. When  Allen  took  duty  at  a  neighbouring 
village  FitzGerald  presided  at  the  harmonium,  not, 
however,  before  gravely  requesting  the  Archdeacon's  son 
to  tell  the  congregation  that  they  would  that  morning 
have  the  privilege  of  listening  to  the  performance  of  a 
distinguished  foreigner,  Signor  Geraldino.  FitzGerald 
also  amused  himself  by  making  a  water-colour  sketch  of 
Frees  church.  '  He  had  a  wonderfully  delicate  artistic 
touch  in  brush  and  pencil,  as  in  everything  else.'^ 

Whilst  at  Frees,  FitzGerald  heard  of  the  death  of  his 
father,  and  at  once  hurried  home.  The  poor  man  had 
never  held  up  his  head  after  the  colliery  crash. 

r     ,  T-,  1  1        82.  Death  of 

We   spoke   of  the   sale  at   Boulge,    but   the   FitzGeraid's 
treasures  of  Naseby  and  Castle   Irwell  were   ^^^^^^'  ^l^^ 

■'  _  March  1852. 

also  dispersed,  some   going  for  a  song — the 

clock,  for  example,  with  moving  figures,  that  had  been  so 

^  Letter  from  Allen's  daughter,  Mrs.  Grier,  to  me,  23rd  September  1902. 


248  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

familiar  an  object  to  Edward's  eyes.  However,  all  was 
now  over.  The  '  blundering  Irishman  '  had  made  his  last 
blunder.  Sheep-stealers,  dishonest  stewards,  collieries, 
his  own  muddling  head,  were  no  more  to  trouble  him. 
Says  Edward :  *  Like  poor  old  Sedley  in  Thackeray's 
Vanity  Fair,  all  his  coal  schemes  are  at  an  end.  He 
died  after  an  illness  of  three  weeks,  saying  "that  engine 
works  well  "  (meaning  one  of  the  colliery  steam  engines), 
as  he  lay  in  the  stupor  of  death.'  He  was  buried  at 
Boulge. 

In  June,  FitzGerald  is  at  Ham  with  his  mother,  revelling 
in  the  cheerful  Thames  scenery,  and  visiting  Strawberry 
Hill  with  its  Horace  Walpole  memories,  and  Hampton 
Court,  the  gardens  of  which  pleased  him,  for  he  was  sure 
gardens  should  be  formal,  and  unlike  general  nature. 

FitzGerald's  passion  for  making  commonplace  books, 
paradises,  museum  books,  or  whatever  he  liked  to  call 
83. '  Polonius,'  them,  was  now  to  bear  issue  in  the  shape  of 
^^52.  a  printed  volume,  Polonius :  A  Collection  of 

Wise  Saws  and  Modern  Instances,  with  a  choicely-written 
and  delightfui,_thoughdj^ointe.d>ef>reface,  -gUrTtrng^-with 
reminiscences  of  saffron  mornings  spent  with  dear  friends 


in  Bedfordshire  and  Northamptonshire,  and  years  packed 
in  moments.  Polonius  (fortunate_^phjLkiSi2^her  !)  moralises 
in  glorious  October  amid  the  fragrance  of  the  yelloA^  trees 
of  Sharnbrook,  by  the  old  sundial  at  Bromham,  which 
bluntly  bids  him  'Go  about  your  business,'  and  in  the 
stately  gardens  of  Castle  Ash  by.  Selden,  Bacon,  New-^ 
man  and  others  are  drawn  upon  for  the  body  of  the  book, 
biu  it  was  upon  Carlyle  (from  whom  are  no  fewer  than 
-«4jiirty  extracts}^  xKaflft^chiefly  b'attehe^dT  FitzGeralH^ 
adxai-FationJorjCarlyle — though  he  liked  none  of  Carlyle's 
works  as  a  whole — is,  indeed,  here  made  very  conspicuous. 
In    the   preface    he    says :    '  Carlyle    notices,    as   one   of 


E.   B.  COWELL  249 

Goethe's  chief  gifts,  "his  emblematic  intellect,  his  never- 
failing  tendency  to  transform  into  shape,  into  life,  the 
feeling  that  may  dwell  in  him.  Everything  has  form, 
has  visual  existence  ;  the  poet's  imagination  bodies  forth 
the  forms  of  things  unseen,  and  his  pen  turns  them  into 
shape."  The  same,'  adds  FitzGerald,  'is  especially 
characteristic  of  Carlyle  himself,  who  to  a  figurative 
genius,  like  Goethe's,  adds  a  passion  which  Goethe  either 
had  not  or  chose  to  suppress,  which  brands  the  truth 
double  deep.'  Among  the  thirty  passages  from  Carlyle 
are  several  of  considerable  length,  for  example  : — 

(8)  Valour  and  IMercy  ^  (Boswell's  Life  of  fo/mson). 
(29)  Self-Contemplation 2  i^Varnhagen  von  Ense's  Memoirs). 
(64)  Liberty.    What  is  it  ?  ^  {Past  a?id  Present). 
(84)  How  to  write  a  good  book^  {Biography). 

Then,  too,  he  quotes  from  Carlyle's  translation  of 
Wilhelm  Meister.^  The  following  are  the  titles  of  some 
of  the  other  extracts  : — 

(51)  Old  Age. — Goethe  is  a  great  instance  of  a  mind  growing, 
growing  and  putting  out  fresh  leaves  to  eighty  years  of  life. 

(66)  Socrates'  Paternoster. — '  O  auspicious  Pan,  .  .  .  grant  that 
I  may  esteem  wisdom  the  only  riches,'  etc. 

(70)  Imaginary  Evils. — Story  from  Wesley's  Journal  of  the 
gentleman  and  the  puff  of  smoke. 

(78)  Choice  of  a  Calling. — '  Whatever  a  man  delights  in  he  will 
do  best.' 

(97)  Genius. — What  is  Genius  but  the  faculty  of  seizing  things 
from  right  and  left,  here  a  bit  of  marble,  there  a  bit  of  brass,  and 
breathing  life  into  them  ? 


^  That  mercy  .  .   .  worthy  or  unworthy. 
^  Finally,  we  .   .  .   should  be  avoided. 
'  Liberty?     The  true  .   .   .  new  definitions. 
*  A  loving  heart  ...  to  light  and  is. 

"">  '  Fun  in  the  old  fiddle,'  and  '  Each  man  who  has  .  .  .  powers,'  Book  11. 
chapter  ii. 


250         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

(104)  '  Love  your  friend  and  his  foible? 

(112)  Have  at  it,  arid  have  it,  and  other  sayings  characteristic  of 
the  activity  and  boldness  of  our  forefathers. 

(118)  Solitude. — Be  not  soHtary,  be  not  idle. 

(132)  Tossing  the  thoughts. — 'A  man  were  better  relate  himself 
to  a  picture  or  a  statue  than  to  suffer  his  thoughts  to  pass  into 
smother '  (Bacon). 

The  copy  of  Polo?iius  before  me  is  the  one  presented 
by  FitzGerald  to  W.  Kenworthy  Browne.  It  is  beautifully 
bound  in  green  leather,  with  the  edges  gilt  and  tooled  ; 
and,  as  an  additional  illustration  to  'Nature  and  Habit' 
(92),  FitzGerald  had  pencilled  in  it  the  line  from  Horace 
{Epistles,  i.  10) — 

'  Naturam  expellas  furca,  tamen  usque  recurret.' ' 

In  June  1852  FitzGerald  is  making  his  annual  visit  to 
Browne  at  Goldington  Hall,  and  amuses  himself  by 
o      A.  ^  .^     sketching   Goldington    Green   from   his  bed- 

04.    At    Oold-  . 

ington  Hall.  room  window.  '  I  never  draw  now,'  he  writes 
wTaWng^'  to  Frederick  Tennyson,  *  never  drew  well  ; 
but  this  may  serve  to  give  a  hint  of  poor  old 
dewy  England.'  In  an  unpublished  letter 2  to  Sir  Henry 
Bishop  (i8th  June  1852)  written  from  Goldington  Hall, 
after  saying  that  he  had  not  an  air  called  'The  old  Horse,' 
and  referring  to  another  called  'The  old  Hen,'^  he 
observes,  '  In  talking  of  words  to  these  English  tunes,  it 
seems  to  me  a  great  pity  that  when  the  old  original  words, 
or  something  at  all  equivalent,  is  available,  your  clever 
coadjutor  does  not  avail  himself  of  them.  It  struck  me 
as  a  mistake  that  so  many  of  the  songs  (meaning  the 
words)  in  your  present  edition  ran  upon  what  the  Germans 

^  *  Drive  out  Nature  with  a  fork,  still  she  will  return.' 

^  Now  in  the  British  Museum. 

^  'The  cackling  old  hen  she  began  to  collogue,'— a  Suffolk  song. 


E.  B.  COWELL  251 

call   ''subjective"  feeling,    and   that,    too,    of  one   kind, 
suited  chiefly  to  mere  ladies  and  gentlemen  ;    and  that 
so  few  were  ''objective,"  such  as  stories,  ballads,  scraps 
of  narrative,  supposed  to  be    uttered,   with  a  variety  of 
humour,    naivete,   or   pathos,    by   other  than    ladies   and 
gentlemen — by  country  people,  soldiers,  sportsmen,  etc' 
In  respect  to  the  tune  of  *  The  king  shall  enjoy  his  own 
again,'  FitzGerald  thought  that  instead  of  its  being  linked 
to  a  new  song  by  Mackay,  unsuitable  to  the  rollicking 
cavalier  tune,   '  it  would  have  been  much  better  to  have 
retained  the  humorous  and  quaint  cavalier  words — with 
perhaps  a  little  amendment.'     He  then  speaks  of  a  song 
called  '  The  Forester '  with  which  he  had  *  scarce  anything 
to  do.'     The  words  were  written  to  some  old  tune,   and 
FitzGerald  thought  they  would  suit  the  tune  better  than 
'  some    aspiration    about   an    evening    star,    or    evening 
bell,   or   evening   gun,   fitted  for  a  modern   young   lady 
at  a  rosewood  pianoforte.'     He  then  quotes  Goethe,  who 
said  that  nothing  is  so  hard  to  make  as  a  modern  ballad  ; 
'just  because  people  felt  within,  instead  of  simply  see- 
ing without,^  and  goes  on:    'As  to  the  simplicity — not 
to  say  silliness — of  some   of  the  old  songs,    I  am   sure 
the   last  thing  a  song  should   be   is   to   be   wise.      The 
thought   should   be   as   simple   as   possible  ;    and    argu- 
ment of  all  kinds  avoided.    .    .    .    As  to  polite  singers 
not    liking    the    old   words    relating   to   the   habits    and 
thoughts    of    simple    people,    country    people,    etc.    (to 
whom  the  tunes   are   so   natural,  and   with   whom   they 
have  survived),  who  that  remembers  Miss  Stephens  and 
Miss    Tree    in    "  Auld    Robin    Gray" — yes,    and    even 
such  delicate  fooling  as   "We're  a'   noddin'" — will   not 
confess    that  excellent    music    may   be    discoursed    that 
way  ? ' 

In  October,  Thackeray  sailed  for  America,  but  before 


252         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

leaving  sent  FitzGerald  a  letter  teeming  with  kindnesses 
that  touched  him  to  the  quick. 

FitzGerald,  who  had  steadily  persevered  with  his  Spanish 
studies   which   had   been   commenced    in   the  cottage   at 

c-   131         Bramford,  presently  found   himself  attracted 

85*  Six  Plsys 

ofCaideron  by  two  Spanish  authors  in  particular — Cer- 
pubiished,  1853.  vantes  and  Calderon  ;  and  by  and  by  he  set 
himself  the  task  of  translating  six  of  Calderon's  plays 
into  English,  namely  :  The  Painter  of  his  own  Dishonour^ 
Keep  Your  Own  Secret^  Gil  Perez,  Three  Judgments  at  a 
Blow,  The  Mayor  of  Zalamea^  Beware  of  Smooth  Water. 
They  were  published  in  1853.  To  this  work— ^contrary 
to  his  practice  —  he  affixed  his  name,^^for  the  reasdrt 
'  that  theTtr-Was^'a~~rivat~nr^e   held"^^(Denis~Florence 


McCarthy).  ft~x^as  done  in  the  way  which  we  have 
noW^-eertie^to  look  upon  as  peculiarly  his  own.  While 
faithfully  trying  to  retain  Svhat  was  fine_and  efficient/ 
he  *  sank,  reduced,  altered,  and  replaced '  much  that 
seemed  not;  and  thoughhe  apoTogised  for  taking  such 
liberties  with  the  Spaniard,  he  pleaded  tTiaFTie  had^  not 
meddled  with  any  of  his  more  famous  plays,_attempting 
thus  (timid,  diffident,  and  inexperienced  man)  the  im- 
possible feat  of  appeasing  Zoilus. 

Calderon,  the  greatest  dramatist  of  Spain,  was  born 
in  1600,  just  five  years  before  Cervantes  set  Don  Quixote 
bustling.  By  161 5,  when  the  second  part  of  Don  Quixote 
appeared,  Calderon — only  a  boy — had  written  his  first 
play,  and  thenceforward,  year  after  year,  he  climbed 
steadily  up  the  steepy  slopes  of  Parnassus.  In  Philip  iv. 
of  Spain  he  found  a  generous  Maecenas  ;  the  death  of 
Lope  de  Vega  in  1635  left  him  w^ithout  a  rival  ;  and 
he  lived  and  wrote  right  on  to  his  death  in  1681,  or 
thereabouts.  Those  of  his  plays  which  FitzGerald  trans- 
lated are  bright  and   pleasant  to    read — here   and  there 


E.  B.  COWELL  253 

a  mei'ry  passage,  and  here  and  there  _anL__outburst  of 
splendid~poetry,  aTi3_one  feels_Xhat  thc-Jxanslato^  on 
excellent  terms  with  his  author. 

Possibly^hebest  of  the  plays  is  the  Mayor  of  Zalamea. 
The  sturdy  old  mayor,  whose  one  idea  wa^Tb  see  justice 
done,  let  captain,  general,  or  king  fulminate  as  he  might, 
wins  the  heart.  His  grim  reply  when  the  king  observed 
of  the  villain  of  the  piece,  '  At  least  you  might  have 
beheaded  him  as  an  officer  and  a  gentleman,'  is  'Please 
your  majesty,  we  have  so  few  Hidalgos  here  about, 
that  our  executioner  is  out  of  practice  at  beheading. 
And  this,  after  all,  depends  on  the  dead  gentleman's 
taste  :  if  he  don't  complain,  I  don't  think  any  one  else 
need  for  him.' 

After  '  the  Mayor '  comes  Gil  Perez,  the  hero  being 
a  ubiquitous  outlaw  of  the  Ro^Roy^order — 

'  Flying  from  him,  it  was  I  fled  from  home 
To  Portugal ;  where  the  first  man  I  saw 
Was  he  I  thought  I  'd  left  at  Salvatierra  : 
Flying  to  Andalusia,  the  first  face 
I  saw  was  his  I  left  in  Portugal  : 
Till,  rushing  homeward  in  despair,  the  man 
I  thought  I  'd  left  behind  in  Andalusia, 
Met  me  at  once,  and  having  knocked  me  down 
Left  me  for  dead.' 

The  Painter  of  his  own  Dishonour  is  enlivened  with 
funny^l"rttle~"aiTecdotes,  of  which  the  following  may  serve 
as  specimen  :  '  A  man  got  suddenly  deaf,  and  seeing  the 
people  about  him  moving  their  lips,  quoth  he,  "What 
the  devil  makes  you  all  dumb?"  never  thinking  for  a 
moment  the  fault  might  be  in  himself.'  Mayors,  generals, 
hidalgos,  alguazils,  robbers,  ladies,  or  kings,  we  are  glad 
to  make  their  acquaintance  by  means  of  FitzGerald's  pure 
and  lucent  English — English  drawn  from  the  crispM 
streams  of  Chaucer  and   the   Elizabethans.      Calderon's 


254         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

thoughts  about  books  in  Keep  Your  Own  Secret  must 
have  appealed  forcibly  to  the  author  of  Euphranor,  who 
thus  renders  them — 

'  Books,  my  friend, 
Truly  are  so  seductive  company. 
We  are  apt  to  sit  too  long  and  late  with  them 
And  drowse  our  minds  in  their  society' ; 

and  yet  what  interests  us  most  of  all  in  this  play  is 
another  passage  which  adumbrates  the  famous  opening 
stanza  of  the  Omar.  Apostrophising  the  sinking  sun, 
Cassar  says — 

'  Another  sun  shall  mount  the  throne 

When  thou  art  sunk  beneath  the  sea  ; 
From  whose  efiilgence,  as  thine  own, 
The  affrighted  host  of  stars  shall  flee} 

It  is^JjitejiselyJiiteresting  to  notice  how  FitzGerald  was, 
unwijlin.gly^_xaQUJlting  towards  his  masterpiece.  His 
place  in  life  was  seeking  after  him.  There  is  a  great- 
ness about  these  six  translations,  but  they  were  destined 
to  be  eclipsed  by  two  other  and  finer  plays  of  Calderon, 
which  FitzGerald  was  by  and  by  to  busy  himself  upon. 
The  sop  thrown  to  the  critics  was  wasted,  for  Zoilus,  in 
the  shape  of  the  Athenceum,  instead  of  being  appeased, 
attacked  the  work  with  so  much  severity  that  FitzGerald 
endeavoured  to  withdraw  it  from  circulation.  Here  the 
psychologist  may  take  notice  of  the  fact  that  FitzGerald, 
like  most  other  men,  was  a  repertory  of  contradictions. 
T-fe€-4iiQSt_or|ginal  and  fearless  of  critics,  a  man  who 
in  respect  to  the  work  of  others  bows  to  none,  never- 
theliis'Tacitly  acknowIedg^"Thp~snpBricrrity  of  judgment 
of  an  anonymous  critic  whqj_whatever  his  skill  as  a 
linguistL_Jiad7  as  his  "criticisms  clearly  show,  no  more 
taste  or  power  to  appreciate  the  graces  of  poetry  than 
the  rank  and~IiIe~Trf  Woodbrrdge,   whose  density  their 


E.  B.  COWELL  255 

gifted  neighbour  has  drafted  into  a  proverb.  From  a 
FitzGerald  one  would  have  expected,  '  By  God  !  'tis  good, 
and  if  you  like't  you  may.'  But  no;  directly  his  own 
work  is  at  the  bar,  anybody's  judgment  is  better  than 
his.  He  confessed  as  much  to  Donne.  *  I  rely,'  he  says, 
'on  my  appreciation  of  what  others  do,  not  on  what  I 
can  do  myself.' 

On  25th  July  1853  he  speaks  of  going  to  one  of  his 
great  '  treats,'  namely  the  assizes  at  Ipswich,  where,  says 
he,  '  I  shall  see  little  Voltaire  Jervis  '  (Chief  Justice),  *  and 
old  Parke '  (Baron  Parke,  afterwards  Lord  Wensleydale), 
*  who,  I  trust,  will  have  the  gout  —  he  bears  it  so 
Christianly.' 


VOL.  I.  M 


BOOK    IV 

Farlingay 
Seven  Years  (1853— November  i860) 


CHAPTER   X 

PERSIAN  STUDIES 

1853-1S55 

Bibliography 

15.  Euphranor, 

16.  Salaman  and  Absal. 

About  1853  Mr.  Job  Smith  removed  to  Farlingay  Hall,^ 
a  farmhouse  about  half  a  mile  out  of  Woodbridge,  and 
Boulge  Hall  became  the  residence  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's  brother  John.  John  FitzGerald 
presently  began  to  make  improvements,  adding  a  wing 
on  the  east  side,  dormer  windows,  and  a  porch.  Like 
Edward,  he  had  a  great  dislike  to  the  felling  of  trees  ; 
consequently  the  various  growths  round  Boulge  Hall 
became  in  time  so  luxuriant  that  the  park  was  all  but 
screened  from  view,  and  the  house  added  to  itself  the 
chill  and  gloom  of  a  monastery.  To  a  friend  who  sug- 
gested the  axe,  he  exclaimed  with  scorn  and  righteous 
indignation,  suggestive  of  his  old  and  proud  ancestors, 
the  Lords  of  Kildare,  *  Do  you  take  me  for  a  timber- 
merchant?'  These  sombre  groves,  however,  were  the 
haunt  not  of  monastics  but  of  merry  children,  whom 
John  liked  to  see  about  him,  and  who  looked  upon 
them  as  made  especially  for  hide-and-seek.  Edward, 
who   was   the    best    of   friends   with    his    brother   (when 

^  Now  a  picturesque  villa,  the  residence  of  Mr.  \Y.  W,  Welton. 

2C9 


26o  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

they  were  apart),  but  who  considered  residence  near  him 
was  not  to  be  dreamt  of,  now  gave  up  his  cottage  at 
the  Park  gates,  and,  without  deciding  on  any  abode, 
packed  up  his  effects  and  sent  them,  by  arrangement 
with  Mr.  Smith,  to  Farlingay  Hall,  which  he  soon 
began  to  regard  as  his  home.  But  a  more  correct 
term  would  be  'headquarters,'  seeing  that  during  most 
of  the  seven  years  of  his  connection  with  Farlingay  he 
led  a  very  nomadic  life,  spending  much  of  his  time  with 
relatives  and  friends.  In  a  letter  to  Carlyle,  14th  October 
1854,  he  says:  *I  am  at  present  staying  with  a  farmer 
in  a  very  pleasant  house  near  Woodbridge,  inhabiting 
such  a  room  as  even  you,  I  think,  would  sleep  com- 
posedly in.  My  host  is  a  taciturn,  cautious,  honest, 
active  man,  whom  I  have  known  all  my  life.  He  and 
his  wife,  a  capital  housewife,  and  his  son,  who  could 
carry  me  on  his  shoulders  to  Ipswich,  and  a  maid- 
servant who,  as  she  curtsies  of  a  morning,  lets  fall  the 
teapot,  etc.,  constitute  the  household.'^  He  continued 
to  spend  many  of  his  evenings  in  Crabbe's  *  little  old 
dark'  cobblery  at  Bredfield,  regularly  comforting  his 
soul  with  a  pipe  and  'a.  glass  of  good  hot  stuff'  which 
derived  its  finishing-touch  from  a  '  little  silver  nutmeg 
grater,'  and  he  would  sometimes  stay  at  Bredfield  two 
months  together. 

In  1853,  influenced  by  E.  B.  Cowell,  FitzGerald,  at 
the  age  of  forty-four,  commenced  seriously  the  study  of 
87,  Persian  Persian,  and  had  by  the  next  year,  with  the 
studies.  j^gjp  q£  gjj.  William  Jones's  Grammar,  made 

sufficient  advance  to  be  able  to  translate  some  of  the 
extracts  from  the  Persian  poets.  What  a  joy  it  would  have 
been  to  Sir  William  Jones,^  the  first  and  one  of  the  most 

^  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  294.     Quoted  by  permission  of  Messrs.  Macmillan. 
2  Sir  William  Jones,  1746- 1794. 


X 

X 


7. 


PERSIAN  STUDIES  263 

enthusiastic  of  English  Oriental  students,  could  he  have 
peered  into  the  succeeding  century  and  seen  the  rare  fruit 
produced  by  his  book  in  the  most  gifted  of  his  pupils. 
*  From  my  earliest  years,'  Jones  had  written,  '  I  was 
charmed  with  the  poetry  of  the  Greeks  ;  nothing,  I  then 
thought,  could  be  more  sublime  than  the  odes  of  Pindar, 
nothing  sweeter  than  Anacreon,  nothing  more  polished 
or  elegant  than  the  golden  remains  of  Sappho  and 
Simonides  ;  but  when  I  had  tasted  the  poetry  of  the 
Arabs  and  Persians  .  .  .'  There  the  letter  breaks  off; 
the  rest  is  lost.  The  'but'  remains,  however,  and  had 
pages  more  been  preserved  a  stronger  impression  of  his 
feelings  could  not  have  been  left.  Probably  every  one, 
upon  first  making  the  acquaintance  of  Persian  poetry, 
has  felt  a  similar  enthusiasm.  It  is  a  new  ocean,  and 
we  stand  looking  upon  it  in  amazement — like  Cortez, 
silent  upon  his  peak  of  Darien. 

A  word  or  two  must  now  be  said  on  the  subject  of 
Persian  history  and  literature.  The  earliest  myths  of 
Persia  are  to  be  found  in  Firdausi's  poem,  the  Shah- 
nameh,  which  records  the  deeds  of  the  herculean  Rustum 
and  his  father  Zal,  both  of  whom  are  referred  to  in  Fitz- 
Gerald's  masterpiece — 

'  Let  Zal  and  Rustum  bluster  as  they  will.' 

The  long  line  of  kings,  which  included  Xerxes  and 
Longimanus,  terminated  in  B.C.  331,  when  Darius  iii. 
was  defeated  by  Alexander  the  Great,  on  whose  death 
(B.C.  323)  Persia  fell  under  the  rule  of  the  Selcucidae, 
whose  history  is  that  of  a  perpetual  struggle  with  the 
Romans.  A  new  era  commenced  B.C.  226  with  the 
foundation  of  the  illustrious  Sassanian  dynasty,  which 
included    the   three    mighty    monarchs    Bahram    Gur   or 


264  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Bahram  of  the  Wild  Ass,'^  so  called  on  account  of  his 
love  for  hunting  that  animal  ;  Kaikobad  the  Great,  and 
his  son  Kaikhosru,^  and  terminated  in  a.d.  641,  when 
the  country  was  subjugated  by  the  Arabs.  About  this 
time  the  ancient  language  or  idiom  of  Persia,  Pehlevi, 
died  out,  making  way  for  Parsi  ;  but  though  the  people 
forsook  the  old  tongue,  the  nightingale,  according  to  the 
pretty  fancy  of  the  poet  Hafiz,  remained  faithful  to  it — a 
fancy  of  which  FitzGerald  made  skilful  use — 

'  And  David's  lips  are  lockt,  but  in  divine 
High-piping  Pehlevi,  with  "Wine  !  wine  !  wine  ! 

Red  wine  ! "  the  nightingale  cries  to  the  rose 
That  sallow  cheek  of  hers  to  incarnadine.' 

For  many  years  after  the  Arab  conquest  Persia  was 
merely  a  province  of  the  Baghdad  caliphs,  and  during 
their  supremacy  flourished  the  first  great  Persian  poet — 
Firdausi  (a.d.  950-1020).  The  year  1028  saw  the  rise  of 
Mahmud  of  Guzni,^  who  rapidly  hewed  out  for  himself 
a  great  empire,  of  which  Persia  formed  a  part,  and  was 
succeeded  by  his  son,  whom  the  Persians,  however, 
drove  from  the  throne  in  favour  of  a  sultan  of  their  own 
nationality — Togrul-Beg.  Togrul-Beg  was  succeeded  in 
1063  by  his  nephew,  Alp-Arslan,  and  Alp-Arslan  by  his 
son,  the  magnificent  and  prosperous  Malik  Shah.  As 
early  as  815  the  influence  of  the  famous  sect  who  called 
themselves  Sufis,  and  their  creed  Sufism,  had  already 
become  noticeable.  The  Sufis  held  that  God  alone 
exists,   all   things  in   Nature  being  a  part  of  Him,   and 

^  'And  Bahram,  that  great  Hunter— the  Wild  Ass 

Stamps  o'er  his  grave,  but  cannot  break  his  sleep.' — Omar,  q.  i8. 
-  '  What  have  we  to  do 

With  Kaikobad  the  Great,  or  Kaikhosru? ' — Omar,  q.  lo. 
'  'And  peace  to  Mahmud  on  his  golden  throne.' — Otnar,  q.  rr. 
'The  mighty  Mahmud,  Allah-breathing  Lord.' — Omar,  q.  60. 


PERSIAN  STUDIES  265 

that  the  only  heaven  and  hell  are  those  which  exist  in 
men's  minds — 

'  I  sent  my  soul  through  the  Invisible 
Some  letter  of  that  After-life  to  spell : 

And  by  and  by  my  soul  returned  to  me, 
And  answered,  "  I  myself  am  Heaven  and  Hell.'"^ 

Broadly,  they  believed  that  by  strict  life,  study,  and 
development  the  Sufi  could  become  actually  God,  and 
religion  remained  no  longer  necessary  to  him  ;  while 
others  who  failed  to  win  that  perfection  in  this  life  would 
attain  it  in  states  of  transmigration.  Thus  all  would 
finally  be  absorbed  in  the  Deity.  Sufism  gave  birth  to 
a  whole  galaxy  of  poets,  who  in  allegory  and  voluptuous 
verse,  the  burden  of  which  was  wine  and  women,  '  repre- 
sented the  mystery  of  divine  love  and  the  union  of  the 
soul  with  God.'  How  much  was  allegory  and  how  much 
appetite,  every  reader  must  decide  for  himself.  Of  the 
so-called  Sufi  poets,  none  of  whom  adhered  strictly  to 
the  creed,  the  greatest  are  Omar  Khayyam — though 
whether  he  was  a  Sufi  or  not  will  always  be  a  matter  of 
dispute — (born  about  1050)  ;  Attar  (born  1216)  ;  Jelaledin, 
author  of  the  Mesnavi  (i 207-1 273)  ;  Sadi  (i  184-1292); 
Hafiz  (?-i388),  and  Jami^  (1419-1492). 

While  FitzGerald  was  studying  Persian  with  Cowell, 
Carlyle  was  constructing  that  forbidding  aerial  grave 
which  he  called  his  '  sound-proof  room '  at  the  top  of  his 
house  in  Cheyne  Row.  One  elected  to  work  among 
flowers  and  bees  and  country  sights  and  sounds,  the  other 
in  the  chilliness  and  ugliness  of  an  elevated  pit. 

Some  years  previous,  as  we  have  seen,  E.  B.  Cowell 
had  translated  several  of  the  Odes  of  Hafiz  (published  in 
1854),  and  to  these,  to  the  selections  from  Hafiz  in  Sir 
William  Jones's  Grammar^  and  to  Eastwick's  translation 

^  Omar,  q.  66.  ^  Pronounced  Jarmy. 


266  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

of  the  Giilistan  of  Sadi,  which  FitzGerald  had  also  care- 
fully studied,  may  be  traced  some  of  the  ideas  which 
„„  ,^  ,  he  subsequently  used  in  his  rendering  of  the 

88,  'Salaman  -i  y  o 

andAbsai'  Riibaiyat.  From  Hafiz  came  the  present- 
published,  1856.   ^^^^  ^^  ^^^  j^gj^y  amusing  himself  behind  the 

veil  by  contriving  the  drama  of  life  ;  in  Hafiz,  too,  there 
are  parallels  to  the  lines  about  Kaikobad  and  Kaikhosru, 
the  morning  draught  at  the  door  of  the  tavern,  the  cara- 
vanserai with  its  two  portals,  and  the  '  cypress-slender 
minister  of  wine.'  The  influence  of  Sadi,  too,  though 
less  evident,  may  be  traced.  Presently  FitzGerald  was 
drawn  to  jajnj,  and  took  upon  himself  to  translate  the 
beautiful  allegory  of  Salaman  and  Absal,  which  he 
finished  under  a  tree  in  the  garden  of  Bredfield  Vicar- 
age. Jami,  who  lived  chiefly  at  Herat,  is  remembered 
on  account  of  three  works :  the  exquisite  Ynssuf  and 
Zideika  (Joseph  and  Potiphar's  wife),^  the  Beharista7t,  and 
Salaman  andAbsai — the  last  a  product  of  his  old  age. 
FitzGerald's  rendering  is  beautiful  in  the  extreme.  The 
story  is  one  of  a  Shah  who  teased  Allah  for  a  son.  A 
shrewd  sage  tried  to  dissuade  him  both  from  making  him- 
self the  captive  of  a  woman  and  from  supplicating  for 
what  would  probably  prove  a  bane.  Of  woman,  indeed, 
the  sage  had  but  a  mean  opinion.     Says  he — 

'  Deck  her  with  jewel  thick  as  night  with  star  ; 
Pamper  her  appetite  with  houri  fruit 
Of  Paradise,  and  fill  her  jewelled  cup 
From  the  green-mantled  Prophet's  well  of  Life — 
One  little  twist  of  temper — all  your  cost 
Goes  all  for  nothing.' 


^  Some  idea  of  this  poem  can  be  got  from  the  extracts  given  in  Persian 
Love-Songs,  a  charming  volume  of  the  Bibelot  Series,  published  by  Gay  and 
Bird.  Jami  makes  Yussuf,  after  the  lapse  of  some  years,  marry  Zuleika,  admit 
that  he  had  always  loved  her,  and  say  exquisitely — 

'  I  would  not  passion's  victim  be, 
And  turned  from  sin — but  not  from  thee." 


PERSIAN  STUDIES  267 

The  Shah,  however,  continued  to  pester  Heaven  with 
his  prayers,  and  at  last  the  child  came.  As  nurse  for  it 
they  chose  a  girl — for  she  was  but  a  girl — named  Absal — 

'  So  young,  the  opening  roses  of  her  breast 
But  just  had  budded  to  an  infant's  lip  ; 
So  beautiful,  as  from  the  silver  line 
Dividing  the  musk-harvest  of  her  hair 
Down  to  her  foot  that  trampled  crowns  of  kings, 
A  moon  of  beauty  full.' 

She  loved  the  babe,  but,  alas !  when  he  grew  older  she 
loved  too  the  boy  and  the  man,  and  exhausted  every 
feminine  artifice  to  ensnare  his  affection — 

'  Thus  by  innumerable  witcheries 
She  went  about  soliciting  his  eyes.' 

And  she  succeeded — so  well,  indeed,  that  when  his  father 
discovered  their  passion,  Salaman,  rather  than  be  told, 
fled  with  her  to  a  lovely  island — and  Salaman's  Isle  is 
surely  one  of  the  most  seductive  spots  in  faery — the 
home  of  green  parrot,  jewelled  peacock,  Iran-lovely 
roses,  and  mellifluous  nightingales.  Here,  hand  in  hand, 
they  gathered  fruit  from  loaded  trees,  drank  from  limpid 
fountains,  reclined  under  leafy  branches,  and  '  sang  divi- 
sions with  the  nightingale  ' — 

'  There  was  the  rose  without  a  thorn,  and  there 
The  Treasure,  and  no  serpent  to  beware — 
Oh  think  of  such  a  Mistress  at  your  side 
In  such  a  solitude,  and  none  to  chide  !' 

Salaman,  much  against  his  will,  was  ultimately  induced 
to  forsake  his  love  by  a  sage  of  his  father's  court ;  but 
do  what  he  would,  Absal  still  reigned  in  his  breast,  and 
he  fled  with  her  again — this  time  not  to  an  island,  but 
to  the  Wilderness  of  Desolation,  where  they  had  deter- 
mined to  die  together.  Having  constructed  a  pyre  of 
sere  wood,  he  with  his  torch  set  it  roaring,  and  the  lovers, 


268  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

hand  in  hand,  sprang  into  the  central  flame,  exulting. 
But  the  sage 

'  In  secret  all  had  ordered  ;  and  the  flame 
Directed  by  his  self-fulfilling  will 
Devouring  her  to  ashes,  left  untouched 
Salaman — all  the  baser  metal  burn'd. 
And  to  itself  the  authentic  gold  return'd.' 

The  sage  finally  made  the  long-silent  voice  of  reason 
sound  in  Salaman's  soul,  and  drew  him  from  dwelling 
on  his  lost  earthly  love  by  telling  him  of  a  celestial  love — 
Zuhrah,  who  presently 

'  Revealed  herself 
In  her  pure  lustre  to  Salaman's  soul. 
And  blotting  Absal's  image  from  his  breast, 
There  reigned  instead.' 

Salaman  represents  'The  Soul  of  Man,'  Absal  'The 
sense-adoring  body '  ;  the  flood  on  which  they  sailed  to 
the  bewitching  island,  '  the  false  paradise  of  sensual 
passion';  the  return  of  Salaman,  'the  return  of  the  lost 
soul  to  its  true  parentage,  and  back  from  carnal  error 
looking  up  repentant  to  his  intellectual  right.'  The 
distraction  of  the  prince,  and  his  second  flight,  and  the 
pyre  on  which  he  sought  to  immolate  himself — 

'That  vi^as  the  discipline 
To  which  the  living  man  himself  devotes 
Till  all  his  sensual  dross  be  scorched  away.' 

Zuhrah  was  the  '  Divine  Original,'  which  now  that  he 
was  divested  of  the  dross  of  the  body,  revealed  itself  in  him 
in  all  its  effulgence.  As  king  and  conqueror  he  mounts 
the  throne,  wears  the  crown  of  human  glory,  and  finally 
is  absorbed,  as  the  Sufi  taught,  into  the  Deity. 

The  story  is  interspersed  with  anecdotes,  '  which  have 
their  use  as  well  as  humour  by  way  of  quaint  interlude 
music  between  the  little  acts.'     Salaman  and  Absal  was 


PERSIAN  STUDIES  269 

published  anonymously  in  1856  by  Parker  and  Son,  the 
printers  being  Messrs.  Childs  of  Bungay.  Recalling, 
subsequently,  the  delightful  hours  spent  with  the  Cowells 
at  the  time  he  was  translating  it,  FitzGerald  observes, 
half-humorously,  half-seriously,  that  he  had  then  two  to 
sympathise  with  him,  and  that  probably  his  public  would 
be  '  nearly  as  numerous.' 

While  Edward  was  translating  Salaman  and  Absal, 
his  brother  John  at  Boulge  was  devoting  himself  with 
renewed  energy  to  social  questions — writing,  for  example, 
against  the  slave-trade  as  followed  in  America,  several 
trenchant  pamphlets,^  in  which,  among  other  things,  he 
urged  all  Christian  men  to  protest  actively  by  refusing  to 
purchase  slave-grown  products. 

In  the  spring  of  1854  FitzGerald  spent  five  weeks,  five 
dulcet  weeks,  'at  Spiers's,'  in  Oxford,  with  the  Cowells, 
where,  an  old  canary-coloured  sofa  to  sit  on,    „    ,„. .   , 

'  -^  89.  With  the 

cocoa  or  tea  on  the  table,  and  Oriel  opposite,    Coweiisat 
they   studied   together   Hafiz,  Jelaledin,   and   °ft°3''i;°herj' 
other  delicious    Persians.      FitzGerald    calls  30th  January 
Cowell  '  a  great  scholar,  .  .  .  such  as  I  have 
not  hitherto  seen  at  all  like  from  the  universities.  .  .  . 
He  deals  more  in  Sanscrit  and  Oriental    literature  than 
in  the  studies  of  the  place.  .  .  .  He  is  most  modest,  nay 
shy,  with  hidden  humour.' 

In  March  1854  England  and  France  declared  war 
against  Russia,  a  condition  of  affairs  which  affected 
FitzGerald,  from  the  fact  that  W.  Kenworthy  Browne 
had  to  leave  Bedford  ;  the  Bedfordshire  Regiment  of 
Regular  Militia,  of  which  Browne  was  a  first-lieutenant, 
and  subsequently  a  captain,  having  to  do  garrison  duty 
at  Galway.      Whilst  in  Ireland,   Browne  wrote  a  diary, 

^  Man-Stealing   by    Proxy,     1850  ;     Christian    Slaveholders    disobedient   to 
Christ,  1854. 


270         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

taken  up  chiefly  with  observations  on  farming,  which 
has  been  preserved  ;  and  under  January  1856  he  speaks 
of  being  at  the  Imperial  Hotel,  Dublin,  at  the  windows 
of  which,  sixteen  years  previous,  he  had  *sat  with 
FitzGerald.' 

In  May  (1854)  FitzGerald  was  in  the  west  country 
again,  visiting  his  sister  Mrs.  De  Soyres,  whom  he  had 
scarce  seen  for  six  years.  He  stayed  at  Bath,  where  he 
met  the  aged  poet  Landor,  and  ascended  *  Vathek's 
Tower,'  erected  by  Beckford.  Back  in  Suffolk,  he  sails 
once  more  in  a  newly  bought  boat  on  his  '  dear  old 
Deben,'  in  company  with  Virgil,  Juvenal,  and  Wesley. 

On  30th  January  1855  he  lost  his  mother,  who  retained 
to  the  last  considerable  traces  of  that  beauty  which  had 
been  her  greatest  gift.  She  was  buried  at  Boulge  church, 
where  there  is  a  large  and  ornate  monumental  tablet  to 
her  memory,  with  a  smaller  one  beside  it  to  her  husband, 
illustrating,  as  has  been  sagaciously  remarked,  '  the  pro- 
portion they  bore  to  each  other  in  life.'  ^  John  FitzGerald, 
who  succeeded  to  his  mother's  estates,  resumed  a  little 
later,^  *  by  royal  licence,  the  additional  surname  and  arms 
of  Purcell.'  Henceforward  in  his  tracts  and  other  pub- 
lications he  signs  himself  'J.  F.  Purcell  FitzGerald,' 
or  *  J.  F.  P.  F-G.' — quite  an  alphabet. 

In  March  1855  came  the  news  of  the  death  of  the 
Emperor  of  Russia,  and  people  began  to  hope  that  peace 
was  in  sight.  Captain  Addington  at  Goldington  (sitting 
among  his  cats)  has  no  doubt  that  Mrs.  W.  K.  Browne 
will  be  glad  to  see  her  husband  returned  from  Ireland, 
and  FitzGerald  is  quite  sure  that  he  (FitzGerald)  will  be 
equally  glad  to  meet  his  old  friend  'the  bloody  warrior,' 
as  he  now  calls  him. 

In  the  summer  of  the  next  year,  Carlyle,  who  had  for 

1  Miss  Margaret  White  in  The  Idler,  July  1900.  *  1858. 


PERSIAN  STUDIES  271 

eighteen  months  been  toiling  at  the  Frederick,  and  felt 
the  need  of  a  change,  decided  to  fulfil  a  promise  of 
many  years'  standing,  and  pay  a  visit  to 
FitzGerald,  who  just  then  was  continually  Fariingay,  8th 
fluctuating  between  Bredfield  Rectory  and  to  isth  August 
Farlingay.  On  ist  August,  Carlyle  is  told 
that  he  will  be  welcome  at  either  place,  and  Mrs.  Carlyle 
is  begged  to  say  what  her  husband  is  to  eat,  drink,  and 
avoid.  Farlingay  being  decided  upon,  Mr.  Job  Smith 
and  FitzGerald  made  every  conceivable  preparation  for 
the  expected  guest,  who  was  promised  entire  liberty,  with 
room,  garden,  and  time  to  himself.  The  'shrieking, 
mad,'  and  to  Carlyle  'quite  horrible  rail  operations' 
terminated  at  Ipswich,  where  FitzGerald  met  him  with 
a  trap,  and  after  a  look  round  the  town  they  set  out  for 
Farlingay,  which  they  reached  late  in  the  afternoon.  It 
was  delightful,  sunny,  autumn  weather.  When  Carlyle 
got  down  in  a  morning  he  was  sure  to  see  '  good  Fitz 
sitting  patient  on  a  big  block,'  a  huge  tree-stump  sown 
with  mignonette.  They  had  walks  through  pleasant  lanes 
and  on  quiet  country  roads.  There  were  drives  to  Dunwich 
and  the  massy  ruin  of  Framlingham  Castle.  The  visit  to 
Aldeburgh,  however,  pleased  Carlyle  the  best.  It  took 
place  on  a  Sunday  morning  ;  and  the  pony  and  trap  with 
the  strange,  uncouth  pair — FitzGerald  in  his  scare-crow 
clothes,  and  Carlyle  with  the  usual  long  clay  pipe  in  his 
mouth— passed  the  church  just  as  the  worshippers  were 
leaving  it  after  morning  service.  The  shocked  look  on 
the  face  of  conventionality  and  'gigmanity'  was  entirely 
to  their  taste,  and  furnished  them  with  much  laughter. 
Carlyle  found  Aldeburgh  a  '  beautiful,  quasi-deserted  little 
sea  town,'  one  of  the  best  bathing-places  he  had  ever 
seen.  '  Nothing  can  excel  the  sea — a  mile  of  fine,  shingly 
beach,  with  patches  of  smooth  sand  every  here  and  there  ; 


272  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

clear  water  shelving  rapidly,  deep  at  all  hours  ;  beach 
solitary  beyond  wont,  whole  town  rather  solitary,'  and  he 
thought  Mrs.  Carlyle  might  do  worse  than  pay  it  a  visit. 
With  FitzGerald,  'lonely,  shy,  kind-hearted  man,'  the 
best  of  landlords,  '  who  discharged  the  sacred  rites  with 
a  kind  of  Irish  zeal  and  piety,'  and  did  everything  except 
leave  his  guest  well  alone,  which  he  did  not  quite  do  ; 
with  Mr.  Smith,  whose  dialect  was  'almost  equal  to 
Nithsdale';  with  Parson  Crabbe,  pink  of  genial  and  good- 
hearted  clergymen,  Carlyle  'did  not  fare  intolerably.' 
The  only  unpleasant  occurrence  was  an  adventure  of 
cows,  who  being  natives  of  Woodbridge,  and  therefore 
not  literary,  had  for  the  author  of  the  French  Revolution 
no  more  respect  than  the  '  demon  fowls '  of  Cheyne  Row. 
They  raged  and  lowed  incessantly  for  the  better  part  of  a 
night,  nobody  could  imagine  why  :  the  result,  '  endless 
sorrow  of  poor  Fitz,'  endless  apologies  from  him  and 
Farmer  Smith's  household,  and  finally,  banishment  of  the 
cows. 

The  fields  were  golden  with  wheat,  and  Carlyle  spent 
most  of  the  day  under  an  elm  near  the  house  reading  up 
Voltaire,  etc.,  for  the  Frederick.  In  the  evening  he,  Fitz- 
Gerald, Mr.  Smith,  and  Alfred  sat  indoors  and  smoked. 
Carlyle  plied  Mr.  Smith  with  questions  about  soils  and 
crops,  and  he  and  FitzGerald  discussed  literature,  that 
'  ass  of  a  column '  at  Naseby  and  its  proposed  rival. 
Scraps  of  Carlyle's  conversation  have  been  preserved,  and 
among  them  his  declaration  that  Burns  ought  to  have 
been  King  of  England,  and  George  iii.  an  exciseman. 
Unlike  Tennyson,  he  spoke  little,  as  FitzGerald  noticed, 
of  his  own  works,  but  once  referred  something  to  *  about 
the  time  men  began  to  talk  of  me.'  Here  and  there  in 
the  Frederick  we  detect  the  presence  of  FitzGerald,  and 
reminiscences   of  the  talk  under  the  elm  at  Farlingay. 


COPY  OF   I  111'.   I'llOTOGRATH    I'kKSENTED  IJY  CAKI.Vl.K  TO 
ALFRED  SMIIH,  OCTOBER  1855 


IM..VT]-:  xxx. 


PERSIAN  STUDIES  275 

Speaking  of  Friedrich  Wilhelm's  Potsdam  regiment  of 
giants,  Carlyle  says,  '  This  also  seems  to  me  one  of  the 
whims  of  genius — an  exaggerated  notion  to  have  his 
stanza  polished  to  the  last  punctilio  of  perfection,^  and 
might  be  paralleled  in  the  history  of  poets. '^  And  later, 
when  Friedrich  Wilhelm  gets  one  hundred  and  fifty  more 
giants  as  a  present  from  Peter  the  Great,  '  Invaluable — to 
a  "man  of  genius"  mounted  on  his  hobby  !  One's  "stanza" 
can  be  polished  at  this  rate.'^  The  visit  terminated  on 
August  i8th,  when  Carlyle,  who  declined  to  be  shut  up  in 
a  railway  carriage,  '  like  a  great  codfish  in  a  hamper,' 
returned  in  the  Ipswich  steamer — '  ugly  home  voyage ' — 
to  his  horrible  room  at  the  top  of  the  house  in  Cheyne 
Row,  whence  later  he  sent  FitzGerald  a  final  inscription 
for  that  visionary  Naseby  pillar,  and  Alfred  Smith  a 
photograph  of  himself.  Said  Alfred,  'Carlyle  's  a  big  man, 
no  doubt,  though  I  don't  know  much  about  him.  So  I  '11 
put  him  in  a  frame ' — which  he  accordingly  did. 

^  Precisely  FitzGerald's  way.     No  one  could  have  been  more  fastidious,     I 
am  sure  Carlyle  was  thinking  of  FitzGerald  when  he  wrote  these  words. 
"■  Frederick,  Book  iv.  ch.  iii. 
^  lb.  ch.  vii. 


VOL.  I.  N 


CHAPTER    XI 

OMAR  KHAYYAM 

In  the  meantime  FitzGerald  had  become  acquainted  with 
the  Ruhaiyat  oi  Omar  Khayyam.  While  studying  in  the 
91.  Omar  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford,  E.  B.  Cowell  had 

Khayyam.  stumbled  upon  a  most  beautiful  Persian  manu- 
script, written  on  thick  yellow  paper,  with  purplish  black 
ink,  profusely  powdered  with  gold  ;  and  further  examina- 
tion proved  it  to  be  an  original  copy  of  the  Ruhaiyat^  of 
Omar  Khayyam,  with  whose  works  he  had  previously 
been  unacquainted.  Delighted  with  his  discovery,  he 
brought  it  under  the  notice  of  FitzGerald,  for  whom  he 
subsequently  made  a  transcript.  Thenceforward  Omar 
was  FitzGerald's  constant  companion,  and  after  a  time  we 
find  him  busy  on  his  now  famous  translation,  or  rather 
adaptation,  of  it. 

Omar  Khayyam  was  born  at  Naishapur,  in  the  middle 
of  the  eleventh  century,  or  about  the  time  of  the  Nor- 
man conquest  of  England,  his  second  name,  Khayyam 
— the  tentmaker — being  derived  from  his  calling.  He 
was  placed  for  instruction  under  the  Imam  Mowaffak, 
and  formed  a  firm  friendship  with  two  fellow-pupils, 
namely  Nizam-ul-Mulk  and  Hasan  Ben  Sabbah.  The 
three,  believing  that  as  they  were  pupils  of  so  great  a 
man  as  Mowaffak,  one  at  fewest  would  attain  to  fortune, 

^  Rubaiyat  is  the  plural  of  Rubai,  which  signifies  a  quatrain,  or  verse  of  four 
lines. 

276 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  277 

made  a  compact  that  whoever  obtained  this  prize  should 
share  it  with  the  others.  Nizam  rose  to  greatness,  be- 
coming vizier  to  the  sultan  Alp-Arslan,  and  upon  being 
reminded  of  the  promise  of  his  youth,  gave  Hasan  a  snug 
place  in  the  government,  and  Omar  a  handsome  yearly- 
pension.  Hasan,  after  meeting  this  kindness  by  plotting 
against  his  benefactor  and  raising  an  insurrection  against 
the  Sultan,  ensconced  himself  in  the  northern  mountains, 
whence  he  harried  all  the  country  round,  and  put  to  death, 
among  others,  his  old  friend  Nizam.  Omar,  on  the  other 
hand,  lived  contentedly  at  Naishapur,  applied  himself 
sedulously  to  his  studies,  particularly  mathematics  and 
astronomy,  basked  in  the  favour  of  Malik  Shah,  Alp- 
Arslan's  successor,  who  employed  him  with  seven  other 
scholars  to  reform  the  Calendar,  and  *  became  the  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  of  his  day.'  To  Sufism,  the  prevailing 
creed,  he  devoted  prolonged  study.  One  day,  walking  in 
a  garden  with  a  pupil  named  Nizami,  he  said,  '  My  tomb 
shall  be  in  a  spot  where  the  north  wind  may  scatter  roses 
over  it.'  And  so  it  fell  out.  Omar  died  in  1123,  and  was 
buried  at  Naishapur,  by  a  rose  garden,  and  when,  years 
after,  Nizami  visited  the  spot,  he  found  that  the  trees  had 
stretched  their  boughs  over  the  wall  and  dropped  their 
blossoms  on  the  tomb. 

As  to  the  result  of  Omar  Khayyam's  Sufic  studies, 
opinion  is  divided.  There  are  two  principal  theories. 
The  first  we  will  call  the  FitzGerald  theory,  ^2.  The  two 
not  because  FitzGerald  believed  absolutely  in  Theories, 
it,  but  because  he  leaned  to  it ;  the  second  the  Cowell 
theory.  Professor  Cowell  having  been  its  chief  exponent. 
According  to  the  FitzGerald  theory,  Omar  Khayyam's 
Sufic  studies  had  the  result  of  causing  him,  in  the  end,  to 
turn  with  contempt  both  from  the  faith  and  its  interpreters, 
whether  ascetic  saint  or  visionary  poet.     Henceforth  he 


278  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

was  the  agnostic,  the  Sufis  were  his  butt,  he  was  their 
aversion  and  dread.  According  to  the  Cowell  theory, 
Omar  always  remained  true  to  Sufism,  and  his  great  poem 
is  a  diatribe  not  against  the  tenets  of  the  Sufis,  but 
against  the  bigotry  of  the  Mahometans.  When  I  visited 
Cambridge  in  November  1901,  I  was  able  to  hear  Pro- 
fessor Cowell's  opinions  from  his  own  lips. 

*  Are  we,'  I  said,  'to  take  Omar's  words  literally,  or  is 
there  a  hidden  meaning?' 

'The  poem,'  he  replied,  'is  mystical.  I  am  convinced 
of  it.  When  in  India  I  had  many  conversations  with 
the  Moonshees  on  the  subject,  and  they  were  all  of  this 
opinion.  They  ridiculed  the  idea  that  the  poem  is  not 
allegorical.' 

'Omar's  laudation  of  drunkenness,'  said  I,  'is  difficult 
to  explain  away.' 

'  By  drunkenness,'  said  Professor  Cowell,  with  a  smile, 
'  is  meant  "  Divine  Love.  "  ' 

'  Then  Omar  was  a  Sufi,  and  not,  as  some  will  have  it, 
heterodoxical  ? ' 

'  Certainly,  Omar  was  a  Sufi.' 

'  But  if  his  laudation  of  drunkenness  is  a  difficulty,  still 
more  must  we  regret  some  of  the  expressions  he  uses 
towards  the  Deity.' 

'They  merely  illustrate,'  observed  Professor  Cowell, 
'  Omar's  disbelief  in  the  Mahometan  heaven  and  hell. 
He  ridicules  the  very  orthodox  Pharisees  among  the 
Mahometans  with  their  strict  observance  of  minutiae.' 

'Then,'  said  I,  'what  it  all  means  is  this:  trouble  not 
your  head  about  the  rewards  of  Heaven  or  the  pains  of 
Hell,  as  understood  by  the  Mahometans  ;  do  not  puzzle 
your  brains  about  anything  ;  but  live  a  right  life,  and 
trust,  never  cease  to  trust,  in  the  goodness  of  God  ? ' 

'  It  is  so.' 


m 


■j'  Mu    ■ 


'  I  Is  '.CTi  Jl'      '    ' 


.,,    \.HM        ^r. 


F'Wil 


'<:     I  K,vr. 


.|l'..-''i^ 


K0.^        ''^^^'  .'^, 


TOM  15  OF  O.MAK   KHAVVA.M  AT  NAISHAl'UR 


PI.ATh  wxi 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  281 

*  But  FitzGerald  did  not  agree  with  you?' 

'  Sometimes  he  inclined  to  this  belief,  though  generally 
not.     He  could  never  quite  make  up  his  mind.' 

Having  outlined  the  two  cardinal  theories  as  to  Omar, 
we  will  give  an  account  of  the  Riibaiyat,  reserving  con- 
sideration of  FitzGerald's  rendering  or  adaptation  for  a 
subsequent  chapter. 

The  oldest  manuscript  of  Omar's  poem  is  that  in  the 
Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford,  which  was  written  by  the 
scribe  Mahmud  Yerbudaki  in  a.d.  1460  (some  93.  omar's 
three  hundred  years  after  Omar's  death),  and  Poem, 
contains  158  rubaiyat  or  quatrains.  The  Calcutta,  the 
Paris,  and  other  manuscripts  contain  many  more 
quatrains,  but  it  is  with  the  Bodleian  MS.  that  we  shall 
mainly  deal,  that  being  the  one  which  inspired  FitzGerald's 
muse.  These  quatrains,  as  Mr.  Heron-Allen  observes, 
and  as  a  glance  at  his  translation  shows,  were  written  not 
at  one  time  *as  components  of  a  consecutive  whole,' 
but  at  intervals  extending  over  a  great  part  of  Omar's  life, 
and  collected  into  their  present  form,  probably  after  his 
death.  Every  quatrain  is  complete  in  itself,  and  the  poem 
must  be  regarded  as  a  collection  of  158  pithy,  poetical 
sayings,  put  together  without  Omar's  knowledge  by  some 
Persian  Boswell.  They  represent  the  poet  in  many 
moods.  He  is  always  poetical,  generally  reasonable, 
sometimes  altogether  unreasonable,"^  and  occasionally,  if 
we  accept  the  agnostic  theory,  even  presumptuous  and 
hlasph.emous^  There "isXonsWefabTe  repetition,  and  he  is 
frequently  inconsistent. 


One  of  the  most  fascinating  features  of  the  Riibaiyat  is 
the   vivid   presentment   it  gives  of  Omar  himself.     We 
seem  to  know  the  roistering  old  sinner  as  if  94.  Omar's 
we  had  sat  and  taken  a  bite  and  a  sup  with    Personality, 
him   on  the  edge  of  the  wilderness  ;    whereas,   in  com- 


282         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

parison,  Hafiz,  Jami,  Attar,  and  the  rest  are  only  shadows. 
Like  Byron,  he  appears  everywhere  through  his  verse.  A 
compound  of  Anacreon,  Koheleth,  Voltaire,  and  Villon, 
he  is,  nevertheless,  the  milk  of  human  kindness — having 
'  engrafted,' to  use  his  own  expression,  'the  leaf  of  love 
upon  his  heart.'  '  So  far,'  he  says,  'as  in  thee  lies,  cause 
no  pain  to  any  one.'  His  creed  is  his  goblet,  his  Koran 
the  text  round  its  brim.  We  see  him,  moustached  and 
bearded — he  calls  himself  old — on  the  drinking-bench 
of  the  tavern  just  outside  the  town,  his  outlook  a  waste 
relieved  only  by  a  ruined  furnace  ;  in  the  potter's  work- 
shop moralising  among  the  two  thousand  pots  ;  or 
reclined  on  the  edge  of  the  wilderness,  with  his  jug, 
his  loaf,  and  his  book  of  verses,  and  '  Heart's  Desire ' 
singing  to  him — the  most  picturesque  figure  in  the 
entrancing  gallery  of  literature.  [We  refuse  to  believe 
that  for  his  aesthetic  mind  coarse  pleasures  had  a  real 
attraction."!  If  he  is  loud  in  the  praise  of  wine,  it  must 
be  rose-coloured,  musk-scented  wine,  served  by  Heart's 
Desire,  who  is  cypress-slender,  beautiful  of  face  and 
musical  of  voice.  Moreover,  the  profound  scholar,  the 
absorbed  philosopher,  would  scarcely  be  also  the  drunken 
debauchee — the  '  Mahometan  blackguard.' 

But  it  may  be  asked,  '  Is  not  "wine,  wine,  wine"  the 
constant  refrain  of  the  Ruhaiyat'^.''  That  is  so  ;  neverthe- 
less, we  are  still  disposed  to  repeat  that  Omar  was  no 
debauchee — that,  as  Charles  Lamb  would  have  said,  '  It 
was  only  his  fun  '  ;  though  to  get  oneself  into  this  frame 
of  mind  certainly  requires  some  faith,  especially  after 
reading  the  more  outrageous  of  the  quatrains  as  rendered 
by  Mr.  Heron-Allen.  For  example  ;  '  A  season  of  roses, 
and  wine  and  drunken  companions — be  happy  for  a 
moment,    for   this   is  life '  ;  ^    '  we   have  returned   to  our 

1  Heron-Allen,  Q.  36. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  283 

wonted  debauch  ;  .  .  .  wherever  the  goblet  is,  there  thou 
mayest  see  us,  our  necks  stretched  out  like  that  of  the 
bottle '  ;  ^  '  Khayyam,  if  thou  art  drunk  with  wine,  be 
happy ' ;  -  '  Let  me.  be  modest  about  my  knowledge,  if  I 
recognise  any  degree  higher  than  drunkenness'  ;^  '  Seek 
me — ye  will  find  me  sleeping  like  a  drunkard  ' ;  *  '  Though 
thy  life  pass  sixty  years,  do  not  give  up  :  wherever  thou 
directest  thy  steps,  walk  not  save  when  drunk.' ^  Take 
him  literally,  then,  Omar  was  a  drunkard,  a  companion 
of  drunkards,  and  a  eulogist  of  drunkenness.  And 
what  shall  we  say  to  this  :  '  Drinking  and  Kalenderism 
— that  is  vagabondism — and  erring  are  best'?^  Or  this  : 
'  Drink  wine,  rob  on  the  highway,  and  be  benevolent'?^ 
Numerous  have  been  the  pleas  put  forward  in  Omar's  , 
favour,  and  it  is  well  to  defend  him,  for,  understood  j 
literally,  he  wants  defending  very  badly.  Some  imagine  1 
that  irony  is  intended  ;  and  certainly  the  excessiveness, 
the  deliriousness  of  his  praise  of  wine  does  lend  colour 
to  the  idea.  Had  Defoe  lived  in  Persia  eight  hundred 
years  ago,  and  did  we  know  as  little  about  his  personality 
and  familiars  as  we  do  of  Omar's,  it  is  possible  that  The 
Shortest  Way  with  Dissenters  might  to-day  be  setting 
as  many  people  by  the  ears  as  Omar's  '  Shortest  Way 
with  the  Puzzles  of  Existence.'  Under  any  circumstances, 
it  is  pleasanter  to  be  charitable  ;  nor  need  we  take 
seriously  the  random  talk  about  vagabondism. 

We  have  referred  to  the  attractions  of  '  Heart's  Desire,' 
*Saki,'    *  the   cypress-slender   minister  of  wine,'   as   she 
is  variously  called,   with    whom    Omar   held   g^.  Heart's 
dalliance.      Indeed,   respecting  the  other  sex   desire. 
Omar  was  much  of  Gautier's  opinion.     A  woman  might 
be  a  man,  as   far  as  he  was  concerned,  if  she  was   not 


^  Heron-Allen,  Q.  99. 

2  Q.  102. 

3  Q.  121, 

*  Q.  132.              »  Q.  138. 

"  Q-  133. 

'  Q.  123 

284  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

beautiful.  '  Heart's  Desire,'  besides  being  cypress-slender, 
was  tulip-cheeked  ;  through  lips  that  were  a  rosebud  she 
gave  forth  nightingale  notes  ;  and  she  could  play  de- 
lightfully on  the  lute,  with  fingers  as  provoking  as  her 
mouth.  How  dainty  are  some  of  the  verses  in  which 
she  figures  : — 

^This  jug  was  once  a  plaintive  lover  like  me,  and 
chased  a  pretty  girl  ;  this  handle  is  the  arm  that  encircled 
her  neck.' 

Again — 

'  Arise,  give  me  wine,  talk  is  waste  of  time.  Thy  little 
mouth  satisfies  my  needs.  Give  me  wine  the  colour  of 
thy  cheeks  ;  my  penitence  is  as  full  of  tangles  as  thy 
curls.' 

Number  43,  the  quatrain  that  suggested  FitzGerald's 
19th,  has  a  deliciousness  that  FitzGerald  did  not  quite 
exhaust — 

'  Wherever  there  are  roses  or  tulips  there  has  been  shed 
the  blood  of  a  king  ;  every  violet  shoot  is  a  mole  that 
once  embellished  the  cheek  of  a  beauty.' 

For  the  mole  on  the  cheek  of  the  lovely  maid  of  Shiraz 
— and  all  Easterns  admire  moles — the  poet  Hafiz  would 
have  given  two  cities. 

Omar  was  not  averse  from  society,  but  he  really  cared 
only  for  a  few  companions,  and  liked  best  to  meditate 
alone,  unless  a  jug  be  company.  For  the  beauties  of 
Nature  he  had  a  poet's  passion — the  blossoms  on  the 
bough,  the  flowers  of  the  plain.  Most  pleasing  to  him 
was  the  rosebud  'which  gathers  its  skirts  round  itself,' 
and  the  tulip  which  every  morning  raised  its  chalice  for 
the  dew  of  heaven. 

The  theory  that  Omar's  quatrains  were  arranged  as 
we  now  have  them  subsequent  to  his  death  may  explain 
some  of  their  inconsistencies.     In  26  he  expresses  belief 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  285 

in  a  future  state  ;  in  35  he  tells  us  that  we  die  as  the 

tulips  do.     In  4  and  91  we  are  enjoined  not  to  cause  pain 

to  any  one  ;  in   123  'to  turn  foot-pad  and  be     ^  ^^   , 

,  ,  96-  The  Incon- 

benevolent.  In  many  places  he  expresses  sistendesof 
his  belief  in  a  sort  of  predestination,  yet  °™"" 
by  his  own  showing  it  lay  with  himself  whether  he 
should  or  should  not  kiss  the  lips  of  a  cup,  sun  him- 
self on  a  river  bank,  or  twist  his  fingers  in  Saki's  curls. 
In  iig  and  125  he  praises  poverty  —  under  the  rag  of 
poverty  one  is  equal  to  a  Sultan — yet  he  advocates  the 
life  bibulous,  which  poverty  would  make  impossible. 
In  I  he  hopes  for  God's  mercy,  yet  in  the  very  next 
quatrain  says,  '  Burn  me  an  Thou  wilt,  or  cherish  me 
an  Thou  wilt.'  Here  God  is  lauded,  there  taxed  with 
injustice,  as  if  He  were  a  mere  creature. 

As  we  have  seen,  Omar  had  endeavoured  to  solve 
the  secrets  of  existence,  to  understand  the  Deity  and 
the  ordering  of  things  on  earth,  but  unsuc-        omar's 

cessfully.     Despite   his    learning,  everything   attitude 

.  ^      1  •  .  ^         ,  ^,       towards  God. 

to     nim     seems    m     a     tangle ;     so,     partly 

in  earnest  because  he  loved  wine,  partly  in  despair 
because  a  pleasant  life  was  slipping  from  him  and  he 
felt  that  happiness  was  to  be  grasped  now  if  ever, 
and  partly  out  of  contempt  for  the  views  of  men 
who,  pretending  that  they  understood  the  working  of 
Providence,  knew  nothing  about  it — he  tilts  the  wine- 
cup,  and  (in  jest,  perhaps)  elevates  drunkenness  to  a 
place  above  the  most  esteemed  virtues.  As  FitzGerald 
remarks,  '  The  spectacle  of  the  old  tentmaker  pretend- 
ing sensual  pleasure  as  the  serious  purpose  of  life,  and 
diverting  himself  with  speculative  problems  of  Deity, 
Destiny,  Matter  and  Spirit,  Good  and  Evil,  is  more 
apt  to  inspire  sorrow  than  anger.'  Omar  comes  to  the 
conclusion,  as  all  must  who  have  pondered  these  matters, 


286  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

that  it  is  not  necessary  to  understand  them  ;  where  he 
is  at  fault  is  in  expressing  distrust  of  the  Deity.  He 
is  sarcastic  and  angry  because  he  cannot  understand, 
whereas  the  only  right  attitude  is  recognition  that  God 
has  withheld  certain  knowledge  from  us  for  a  wise  pur- 
pose. Instead,  however,  of  acquiescing  in  the  Divine 
will,  the  reasons  for  which  no  man  can  fathom,  he 
takes  upon  himself  to  lay  upon  the  Deity  the  blame 
for  everything  that  is  amiss.  Even  repentance,  he 
asserts,  is  useless.  As  an  example,  he  mentions  that  he 
once  stole  a  prayer-mat  from  a  mosque  ;  he  repented, 
and  then  went  and  stole  another  mat.  In  fact,  he 
furnished  his  house  with  stolen  mats,  easing  his  mind 
every  time  by  repentance.  A  twinkle  lights  his  eye, 
certainly,  but  he  is  sincere  enough  in  his  conclusion,  to 
wit:  'What  is  the  good  of  repentance?  God  made  me 
a  man  of  sin.  It  is  all  destiny.  If  any  one  is  to  blame, 
it  is  God  Himself.'  Yet  he  can  acknowledge  God's 
mercy  and  praise  Him  for  giving  the  juice  of  the 
grape  ;  and  occasionally  he  takes  the  correct  attitude  of 
a  creature  to  a  Creator :  '  I  do  not  always  prevail  over 
my  nature.  ...  I  verily  believe  that  Thou  wilt  gene- 
rously pardon  me,  on  account  of  my  shame  that  Thou 
hast  seen  what  I  have  done.'^ 

Hitherto  we  have  considered  Omar  and  his  work  in 
the  light  of  the  FitzGerald  theory,  the  theory  that  is 
generally  accepted  in  England  and  America — assuming 
that  Omar  was  an  opponent  of  the  Sufis  and  an  agnostic 
— or,  as  FitzGerald  puts  it,  *  a  philosopher  of  scientific 
insight  and  ability  far  beyond  that  of  the  age  and 
country  he  lived  in,'  whose  moderate  ambition  and 
moderate  wants  suggest  that  although  the  wine  he  cele- 
brates is  the  juice  of  the  grape,  he  bragged  more  than 

1  Q.  109, 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  '  287 

he  drank  of  it.  But  then,  as  we  pointed  out,  there  is 
the  other  theory,  and,  regarded  in  the  light  of  that, 
Omar's  poem  falls  into  quite  another  category,  that  to 
which  belongs,  for  example,  the  Song  of  Solomon,  in 
which  the  Bride  and  Bridegroom  are  considered  to  sym- 
bolise Christ  and  His  church.  Using  English  eyes,  one 
is  apt  to  be  prejudiced,  and  to  look  suspiciously  on 
the  allegorical  interpretation,  whether  of  the  Song  of 
Solomon  or  of  Omar  ;  but  the  Easterns  regard  it  all 
as  very  natural.  Flinging  aside  man-made  creeds, 
Omar  trusts  himself  unreservedly  to  God's  goodness — 
washing  down  the  misery  of  the  world  in  the  wine  of 
Divine  Mercy  ;  and,  leading  a  benevolent  life,  is  assured 
that  all  will  be  well.  The  God  of  the  extreme  Maho- 
metans is  no  God  at  all,  but  a  mere  figment  of  their 
own  diseased  imagination.  Moan  not  for  fear  of  hell, 
whether  in  palace,  cottage,  cell,  or  synagogue.  Be 
happy.  Thou  knowest  not  whence  thou  camest,  thou 
knowest  not  whither  thou  shalt  go.  Some  look  for 
joys  of  Heaven.  I  tell  you  it  is  Heaven  now  if  you 
surrender  yourself  to  the  loving-kindness  of  God.  God 
is  love  ;  and  Divine  love,  which  I  am  never  weary  of 
glorifying — Divine  love,  except  which  there  is  nought 
under  the  sun  worth  men's  serious  consideration,  that 
under  the  figure  of  the  wine-cup  I  sing,  that  shall  be 
my  theme  till  I  die.  Nothing  else  affords  me  comfort, 
and  I  must  dwell  upon  it  until  my  grateful  heart  fails 
to  find  words  capable  of  expressing  its  emotion.  As 
for  death,  why  should  I  fear  it?  To  God  I  owe  my 
life  ;  to  Him  I  will  surrender  it  when  He  bids  me.  Such 
is  the  Omar  Khayyam  of  Professor  Cowell  and  the 
Eastern  interpreters. 

Mr.    Heron-Allen    is   inclined  to  think  that   there   are 
wellnigh    as    many  theories    respecting    Omar   as   there 


288         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

are  students  of  him,  for  everybody  '  reads  into  the 
quatrains  his  own  pet  philosophy,  and  interprets  him 
according  to  his  own  rehgious  views.'  .  .  .  *  For  me,' 
he  continues,  'Omar  was  at  once  a  transcendental 
agnostic  and  an  ornamental  pessimist,  not  always 
supported  by  the  courage  of  his  own  opinions,  but 
profoundly  imbued  with  the  possible  beauty  of  the 
present  world.'  In  whatever  light  we  regard  him, 
however,  we  must  treat  him  as  we  should  any  other 
great  author — that  is  to  say,  take  out  of  him  whatever 
is  beautiful,  dainty,  inspiring,  and  cheering,  leaving 
the  residuum,  and  there  will  be  a  feast  sufficient  for 
any  man.  As  for  the  remark  that  readers  '  care  for^ 
but  one  Omar,  and  his  real  name  is  FitzGerald ' — that,  if 
true,  says  little  for  the  readers'  intelligence  now  that  the 
complete  Omar  is  accessible  to  all.  As  well  say  there 
is  only  one  Boccaccio  that  people  care  for,  and  his  real 
name  is  Chaucer. 

Peace  having  been   made  with    Russia  (March  1856), 

Captain  W.  Kenworthy  Browne — '  the  bloody  warrior ' — 

-  _  ...    ,       returned   from    Ireland,    '  doffed    his   warlike 

98.  Goldington  ' 

Hall  and  habiliments,'    to     use    Captain     Addington's 

Germany.  n  •  ■,  j     i  • 

liowery  expression,  and  resumed  his  peace- 
ful occupations  at  Goldington,  where  FitzGerald  again 
visited  him.  The  meeting  was  a  happy  one,  and  Fitz- 
Gerald made  much  of  his  friend's  little  sons,  Elliott  and 
Gerald,  often  accompanying  them  on  their  jaunts, 
particularly  to  Captain  Addington's.  Turnpike  Cottage 
had  a  gate  each  side  the  turnpike,  and  it  was  the 
delight  of  the  young  Brownes  to  take  advantage  of 
their  friendship  with  the  captain  by  riding  their  ponies 
through  his  garden  and  so  avoiding  the  gate-man.  In 
June,  FitzGerald,  Browne,  and  the  Rev.  George  Crabbe 
took  a  trip  together  to  the  Rhine,  one  of  the  mementoes 


'  rHK   1!I.OOI>\'   WAKKIok  • 

CAI'TAIN  \V.   KKNWOKIIIV  IlKOWNK  AT  AI.DKHSIIUT 


I'l.ATli   \\.\11. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  291 

of  the  journey  being  a  Baedeker's  Manual  of  Conversa- 
tion^ v^\\h  the  following  in  Browne's  writing,  '  W.  K.  B., 
Heidelberg,  Monday,  June  16,  1856.  E.  F.  G.,  G.  C, 
and  W.  K.  B.'  Of  this  journey  I  have  been  unable  to 
find  previous  record,  and  in  view  of  what  it  must  have 
meant  to  him,  it  is  singular  that  his  writings  contain 
no  reference  to  it. 

In  the  meantime  Cowell  had  been  appointed  Professor 
of  History  at  the  Presidency  College,  Calcutta,  and  was 
making  arrangements  for  departure.     To  be  ^  coweii 
separated  from  his  friend  was  to  FitzGerald  goes  to  India, 

August  1856. 

a   good   deal    of  a  wrench.      '  Your   talk  of  Reminiscences 
going  to  India,'  he  wrote,  *  makes  my  heart  of  Bramford. 
hang  really  heavy   at   my   side.'      But    Cowell  exhorted 
him  to  be  cheerful,    and  as  a  parting   gift  gave  him   a 
book  in  which  he  had  written  the  following  lines — 

'Thou  hidden  love  of  God,  whose  height, 
Whose  depth  unfathomed  no  man  knows, 
I  see  from  far  Thy  beauteous  light ; 

Inly  I  sigh  for  Thy  repose  ; 
My  soul  is  sick,  nor  can  it  be 
At  rest,  till  it  find  rest  in  Thee.'  ^ 

wthjuly  1856. 

Before  Cowell's  departure,  however,  the  friends  met 
again  at  the  residence  of  Cowell's  mother,  Rushmere, 
near  Ipswich.  They  strolled  together  in  the  hay-field 
in  front  of  the  house,  and  FitzGerald  remembered  every 
incident  of  the  day — the  men  with  their  hay  cromes, 
the  conversation  of  his  friend,  the  hum  of  the  bees, 
the  fragrance  of  the  hay,  his  own  husky  voice — with  a 
sincere,  sad,  and  affectionate  interest.  It  was  as  a  part- 
ing of  lovers.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowell  sailed  for  India 
early  in  August  in  the  Monarchy  the  route  taken  being, 

'  I  had  this  information  from  Professor  Cowell. 


292         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

of  course,  that  round  the  Cape,  and  they  arrived,  to 
use  Cowell's  own  words  to  me,  'just  in  time  for  the 
horrors  of  the  mutiny.'  Among  the  passengers  was  a 
Mr.  Astell  (now  Squire  Astell  of  Old  House,  Ickwell, 
Biggleswade),  with  whom  they  read  Hindustani. 

'Ah,  happy  days!'  writes  FitzGerald  plaintively, 
recalling  the  joys  of  the  cottage  at  Bramford  ;  *  when 
shall  we  three  meet  again — when  dip  in  that  unreturn- 
ing  tide  of  time  and  circumstance?  In  those  meadows 
far  from  the  world,  it  seemed,  as  Salaman's  Island — 
before  an  iron  railway  broke  the  heart  of  that  happy 
valley  where  gossip  was  the  mill-wheel,  and  visitors  the 
summer  airs  that  momentarily  ruffled  the  sleepy  stream 
that  turned  it  as  they  chased  one  another  over  to  lose 
themselves  in  whispers  in  the  copse  beyond.  On 
returning — I  suppose  you  remember  whose  lines  they 
are — 

"  When  winter  skies  were  tinged  with  crimson  still," 

at  such  an  hour  drawing  home  together  for  a  fireside 
night  of  it  with  ^schylus  or  Calderon  in  the  cottage, 
whose  walls,  modest  almost  as  those  of  the  poor  who 
clustered — and  with  good  reason — round,  make  to  my 
eyes  the  Towered  Crown  of  Oxford  hanging  in  the 
horizon,  and  with  all  honour  won,  but  a  dingy 
vapour  in  comparison.'^  The  expression  'the  Towered 
Crown  of  Oxford '  had.  Professor  Cowell  told  me,  a 
double  meaning.  It  refers  both  to  the  Magdalen  Tower 
hard  by  Cowell's  rooms  at  Oxford,  and  to  the  first-class 
obtained  by  Cowell  in  the  B.A.  examination.  At 
Calcutta,  Cowell  indulged  to  the  full  his  appetite  for 
work.  From  6  a.m.  to  8.30  he  read  with  a  Pundit.  His 
mornings  were  spent  at  the  Sanskrit  College,  his  after- 

^  FitzGerald's  preface  to  Salaman  and  AbsaL 


PROFESSOR  COWKLL 

From  a  f>lwlot;rnplt  hy  A.  II.  (  aile,  Ipswich. 


n.A TI-;  XXXIII. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  295 

noons  in  lecturing  on  English  Literature  ;  in  vacations  he 
studied  Persian  with  a  Moonshee,  whom  he  used  also 
to  consult  when  FitzGerald,  who  was  reading  Nizami, 
applied  to  him  respecting  difficulties. 

In  matters  of  art  FitzGerald  still  interested  himself, 
though  less  than  formerly.  He  speaks  with  some 
enthusiasm  of  a  Holy  Family  on  a  panel  in  his  posses- 
sion, which  had  the  inscription,  '  Petrus  dein  gnatis 
fecit,  MDXLViii.,'  on  a  scroll  on  the  left-hand  corner.  It 
is  'admirably  painted,'  and  'the  expression  of  the  figures 
— Virgin,  Child,  St.  Joseph,  St.  John,  and  St.  Catherine — 
is  very  tender.'^ 

^  Notes  and  Queries. 


CHAPTER    XII 

SIX    MONTHS    OF   WEDDED    LIFE 
4TH  NOVEMBER  1856 — MAY  1857 

Bibliography 
17.   Attar's  'Bird  Parliament'  adapted. 

In  October  1856  FitzGerald  spent  a  week  at  Bury  with 

the    good,    handsome,    and    accomplished    Donne,     the 

wittiest    of    his    friends    ('  You    don't    know 

TOO    .A.  wrppK 

at  Donne's,        Donne's    fun    yet ')  —  who,    however,    could 
George  never  take   up   pen   without  putting:  on  the 

Borrow.  ^     ^  . 

Quaker.  Few  men  have  had  more  virtues 
attributed  to  him  than  'our  Donne,'  though  through 
the  snowy  marble  of  his  character  there  zigzagged, 
according  to  Fanny  Kemble,  'a  vein  of  deep  and 
black  malignity,'  ^  but  we  may  charitably  assume  that 
Mrs.  Kemble  saw  him  at  some  exceptional  moment, 
for  he  was  pre-eminently  the  amiable,  the  meek,  the 
uncomplaining  man. 

At  Donne's  FitzGerald  met  George  Borrow,  the 
elephantine,  shaggy-browed,  stentorian  voiced,  mysteri- 
ous author  of  Lavengro  ;  linguist,  gypsy-lorest,  pugilist, 
naturalist,  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of  the  genii  of 
the  pen.  He  was  fifty-three,  comfortably  settled,  after 
countless    wanderings,    with    a    well-lined    widow    in    a 

^  Further  Records,  ii.  p.  1 54. 
296 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  297 

Hereward  the  Wake  sort  of  retreat — very  difficult  of 
access — among  the  sedges  and  rushes  of  Oulton,  near 
Lowestoft.  He  described  himself  as  a  Le  Sage  in  water- 
colours  ;  and,  indeed,  the  adventures  of  Gil  Bias  were 
not  more  varied.  Borrow  read  FitzGerald  a  long  trans- 
lation which  he  had  made  from  the  Turkish,  and 
FitzGerald  lent  Borrow  Cowell's  MS.  of  Omar.  Later, 
Borrow  presented  FitzGerald  with  a  copy  of  The  Romany 
Rye,  which  FitzGerald  liked  only  in  parts,  and,  more 
siio,  told  the  author  so.  As  to  Borrow  personally, 
FitzGerald  was  repelled  by  his  masterful  manner  and 
uncertain  temper,  and  they  did  not  become  very  intimate. 

Of  the  relations  between  FitzGerald  and  Lucy  Barton 
we  have  already  spoken  at  some  length.      For   several 
years  he  seems  to  have  been  trying  to  persuade   iqi.  pitz- 
himself    that   marriage,    and    marriage    with    Gerald's 
Lucy  Barton,   was  desirable.     For  instance,    November 
we   may  notice   that   in   Polonius   (published    ^^5^- 
in  1852)  there  are  two  extracts  on  the  subject  of  marriage, 
and  both  recommendatory  to  that  state — one  from  Carlyle, 
the  other   from   Bacon.      W.    Kenworthy    Browne,   who 
tried    his    utmost    to    prevent    the    union,    declared    that 
FitzGerald   was   veering   towards   a   precipice,    and    that 
nothing  could  come  of  such  a  union   but  unhappiness. 
In  reply,   FitzGerald  said  that  he  had  given  the  matter 
long  and  serious  consideration,   and  that,  moreover,  he 
had    pledged    his    word    to    take   care   of    Miss    Barton. 
'Give   her,'   said    Browne,    'whatever    you    like,    except 
your  hand.     Make  her  an  allowance.' 

'I  would  cheerfully  do  so,'   replied    FitzGerald,    'but 
then  people  would  talk.' 

*  That  from  you  ! '  followed  Browne  ;  '■you,  who  do  not 
care  a  straw  what  anybody  says  about  anything  ! ' 

'Nor  should  I  care,'  exclaimed  FitzGerald;  '  but  Miss 

VOL.  I.  o 


298  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Barton   would    care   a   very   great    deal.       It    would    be 
cruel.' 

FitzGerald,  who  very  well  understood  Miss  Barton's 
character,  had  himself  the  gravest  doubts  whether  they 
would  be  happy  together,  but  he  hoped  against  hope. 
He  admired  certain  of  her  qualities,  he  honoured  the 
memory  of  her  father,  he  sympathised  with  her  poverty  ; 
he  had  promised,  and  she  had  interpreted  that  promise 
in  one  and  only  one  way,  to  provide  for  her.  He  was 
not  in  love  ;  there  was  no  courting  or  growing  *  amorously 
lean  '  on  his  part.  Both  were  fifty,  and  Miss  Barton  was 
tall,  gaunt,  and  plain.  He  looked  forward  simply  to  the 
quiet  settling  down  together  of  two  elderly  persons  who 
had  hitherto  been  very  good  friends,  and  would,  he  fer- 
vently hoped,  in  spite  of  appearances,  continue  so.  He 
used  to  say  that  he  never  rejected  the  advice  of  a  friend 
without  regretting  it,  and  the  course  he  now  followed, 
contrary  to  Browne's  urging,  was  to  furnish  his  dictum 
with  an  additional  and  the  most  melancholy  illustration. 
The  marriage  ceremony  took  place  at  All  Saints'  Church, 
Chichester,  where  Miss  Barton  had  friends,  on  4th 
November  1856.  The  newly  married  couple  resided 
first  at  Brighton,  and  afterwards  at  31  Great  Portland 
Street,  London  ;  but  a  very  few  days  sufficed  to  reveal 
that  they  were  totally  unfitted  for  each  other.  Mrs. 
FitzGerald's  prim,  methodical,  fussy,  masterful  nature, 
and  her  fondness  for  society  ways — fostered  by  her  resi- 
dence with  the  Gurneys  (she  could  see  no  enjoyment 
in  a  dinner  unless  one  dressed  for  it) — soon  discovered 
themselves.  To  FitzGerald,  careless,  disorderly,  uncon- 
ventional, who  had  for  so  long  followed  his  own  sweet 
will,  punctilious  etiquette  and  fastidious  neatness  in  attire 
were,  above  all  things,  hateful.  It  was  the  '  stupid 
dulness '   of  the  formal  dinner,   he   used   to   say,   which 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  299 

contributed  more  than  anything  else  to  drive  him  out 
of  Society.  He  once  said  to  a  friend,  alluding  to  his 
disagreement  with  his  wife  :  '  I  could  not  be  bothered 
with  all  those  whims — dressing  for  this  and  dressing 
for  the  other.  I  couldn't  put  up  with  it.'  Then  their 
differences  of  opinion  on  the  food  question  did  not  tend 
to  diminish  friction.  While  FitzGerald  was  practically 
a  vegetarian,  and  liked  the  little  meat  he  did  eat  '  home 
done,'^  his  wife  not  only  liked  meat,  but  (to  his  horror) 
liked  it  underdone — a  feature,  in  his  opinion,  almost  as 
bad  as  cannibalism.  That  difficulty,  however,  might  have 
been  got  over,  seeing  that  meat-eating  was  not  in  respect 
to  others  regarded  as  a  casus  belli;  but  to  exchange  the 
plaid-shawl  in  which  he  loved  to  envelop  himself  for  an 
evening  coat,  a  stiff  collar,  and  cravat,  was  not  even  to 
be  dreamt  of.  Many  women,  with  a  little  tact,  a  little 
forbearance,  and  quiet  instead  of  rasping  words,  could 
have  wound  FitzGerald  round  their  finger.  A  fine 
opportunity  of  making  a  happy  marriage  was  here  lost. 
He  was  enticeable  ;  but  no  woman  on  earth,  or  man 
either,  could  force  him.  By  considering  /u?7i  more,  and 
outsiders  less — outsiders,  too,  who  counted  for  nothing — 
she  would  have  come  to  her  kingdom.  Then,  too,  since 
his  mother's  death  FitzGerald  had  been  a  man  of  means, 
and  this  fact,  considering  that  Mrs.  FitzGerald  herself 
had  been  practically  penniless,  should  have  had  some 
weight  with  her.  She,  poor  woman,  could  not  see  things 
in  this  light,  however.  Strong  as  was  her  will-power, 
FitzGerald's  was  stronger,  and,  as  he  once  said,  he  could, 
had  he  chosen,  have  borne  down  all  opposition  and  made 
her  a  slave,  but  he  declined  to  exercise  his  power.  On 
the  other  hand,  to  give  up  the  hours  of  his  Hfe  which 
was  fast  ebbing  away — and  who  more  conscious  than  he 

^  Done  thoroughly. 


300  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

of  the  resistless  march  of  time? — to  give  up  the  precious 
hours  of  his  life  to  formality,  conventionality,  and  fashion, 
was  to  him  out  of  all  question.  His  imperious  temper 
often  caused  him  to  use  wounding  words,  which,  it  is 
but  justice  to  him  to  observe,  he  subsequently  lamented  ; 
and  if  she  suffered,  he  also  suffered  acutely.  The  early 
months  of  a  married  life  are  rarely  altogether  cloudless. 
There  is  always  a  certain  amount  of  disillusion.  These 
months,  which  so  many  mistake  for  paradise,  are  only  the 
portal  of  paradise. 

With  FitzGerald,  all  was  now  sable  and  sad.  His 
life,  despite  its  tinge  of  melancholy,  had  hitherto  been 
a  pleasant  poem,  and  it  was  the  charm  of  his  own  char- 
acter in  great  measure  that  made  it  so.  The  scenes  at 
Tenby,  at  Bedford,  at  Boulge  Cottage,  at  Bramford,  are 
as  idyllic  as  anything  in  Theocritus,  and  they  succeed 
each  other  like  the  changes  in  a  kaleidoscope.  Suddenly 
there  is  an  end  to  the  beautiful  phantasmagoria.  The 
spiteful  fairy,  whom  some  one  had  affronted  at  Fitz- 
Gerald's  birth,  interposes  her  hand  between  the  picture 
and  the  light,  and  life  suddenly  becomes  haggard,  dark, 
and  lugubrious.  How  strange  that  everybody  could  love 
FitzGerald,  put  up  with  his  peevishness  and  eccentricities, 
nay,  love  him  the  more  for  them,  except  one  person — his 
wife !  Blame  neither  very  much,  for  Mrs.  FitzGerald 
in  her  way  was  kindly.  She  simply  failed  to  chime  with 
her  husband.  Instead  of  attracting,  they  repelled  each 
other,  found  each  other  absolutely  unendurable. 

In  the  middle  of  December — they  had  been  married  only 
a  fortnight — Mrs.  FitzGerald  went  by  herself  into  Norfolk, 
where  she  spent  five  weeks,  partly  at  Mr.  Hudson 
Gurney's,  and  partly  at  Geldestone,  where  her  husband 
joined  her,  and  they  looked  about  for  a  home.  At  first 
they  thought  of  Norwich.     *I  want  my  wife,'  FitzGerald 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  -,01 


O"- 


had  written  on  January  ist,  '  to  learn  all  she  can  of  house- 
keeping, and  employ  herself  in  it :  I  think  she  is  given 
to  profusion,  and  her  hand  is  out  of  practice,  of  course.' 
Finally  they  returned  to  London  and  took  apartments  at 
Portland  Terrace,  Regent's  Park.  Recalling  old  and 
pleasant  days  with  the  Cowells,  FitzGerald  wrote  (January 
22),  '  I  believe  there  are  new  channels  fretted  in  my 
cheeks  with  many  unmanly  tears  since  then.'  Indeed,  he 
had  become  utterly  miserable.  Mrs.  FitzGerald  either 
had  not  the  tact  or  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  make  his 
home  agreeable  to  him,  and  he  pined  for  his  old  solitary 
life.  Whilst  in  London  he  saw  Carlyle  once,  and  Donne, 
Thackeray,  Tennyson,  and  Spedding,  whose  first  volume 
of  Bacon  was  out.  He  showed  Tennyson  some  touching 
lines  written  by  a  poor  sailor  lad  who  died  at  sea — 

'  The  sullen  waves  close  o'er  him  :  but  there  's  not 
A  stone  to  mark  the  burial  of  the  brave  ; 
A  single  bubble  bursting  marks  the  spot 
Where  rests  the  sailor  in  his  sailor's  grave,' 

and  Tennyson  paused  *  to  murmur  over  that  single 
bursting  bubble.'  Thackeray,  who  was  also  present, 
'  thought  there  must  have  been  a  hundred  bubbles  rather 
than  one.'  ^ 

FitzGerald's  studies  continued  to  be  mainly  Persian  :  he 
goes  through  Hafiz,  Jami,  Nizami,  and  Attar's  Mcmtik, 
the  last  especially  interesting  him.  The  letter  of  January 
22nd  lately  referred  to  closes  with  a  pathetic  passage 
hinting  at  the  sad  home  trouble  :  '  Till  I  see  better  how 
we  get  on,  I  dare  fix  on  no  place  to  live  or  die  in.  Direct 
to  me  at  Crabbe's,  Bredfield,  till  you  hear  further.'  Next 
comes  the  news  of  the  death  of  '  Anglo-Saxon  Kemblc ' 
(26th    March    1857).      '  Poor    John  ! '    writes    his    sister 

'  Sea  Words  and  Phrases,  No.  2. 


302  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Fanny,  'his  devotion  to  his  studies  was  very  deep.'  His 
Hfe  was  not  much  more  successful  than  the  Torrijos 
expedition.^  A  brilliant  scholar,  given  over,  to  his  own 
hurt,  to  intense  study  and  'deep  philosophising.' 

In  the  midst  of  his  troubles  FitzGerald  occupied  himself 

in  studying  the    Persian    poet   Attar,    a    manuscript    of 

T-^   T,-  J  .  whose  Mantik-iit-Tair.  or  Bird  Parliament — 

102.  The  Birds  ' 

'Pilgrim's         an  exposition  of  the  doctrines  of  Sufism — he 
rogress.  j^^^  obtained  from  Mr.  Napoleon  Newton  of 

Hertford  ;  and  presently,  by  the  help  of  the  publications 
of  Garcin  de  Tassy,  he  set  about  the  translation,  or  rather 
the  adaptation,  of  that  poem,  for  he  followed  his  usual 
method.  By  March  20th  (1857)  he  had  got  twenty  pages 
done,  and  said,  '  It  is  an  amusement  to  me  to  take  what 
liberties  I  like  with  these  Persians.' 

The  Mantik — like  Jami's  Salaman — is  a  story  inter- 
spersed with  anecdotes,  in  the  best  of  which  figures  Shah 
Mahmud — '  the  mighty  Mahmud '  of  the  Rubaiyat  who 
scattered  before  him  the  misbelieving,  black  horde  of 
India."  It  has  a  number  of  passages  containing  thoughts 
which  come  up  again  in  FitzGerald's  Omar.  The  story 
of  the  poem  is  briefly  as  follows  :  The  bird  world  had 
assembled  on  a  no  less  solemn  business  than  to  choose  a 
Khalif.  The  first  to  speak  was  Tajidar,  the  lapwing,  who 
declared  that  they  had  a  Khalif  already,  that  he  knew  this 
Khalif,  his  whereabouts,  and  how  to  reach  him,  and  that . 
they  would  know  him  too,  but  for  the  curse  of  their  self- 
exile,  seeing  that  he  is  everywhere — among  them  indeed 
at  the  moment.  Would  they  reach  their  king  they  must 
repent  of  their  misdeeds  and  ^o  on  pilgrimage  by  a  long, 
dangerous,  and  dismal  road,  up  to  the  mighty  mountain 
Kaf.      Some  of  the  audience   express  a  desire  to  make 

'  Records  of  a  Later  Life,  vol.  iii.  p.  150. 
^  FitzGerald's  Omar,  q.  60. 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  303 

this  journey,  but  others  object — the  pheasant,  the  night- 
ingale, and  the  parrot  in  particular.  The  last,  a  very 
Omar  Khayyam  among  birds,  says — 

'"Some" — and  upon  the  nightingale  one  eye 
He  leered — "for  nothing  but  the  blossom  sigh  : 
But  I  am  for  the  luscious  pulp  that  grows 
Where,  and  for  which,  the  blossom  only  blows  : 
And  which  so  long  as  the  green  tree  provides 
What  better  grows  along  Kaf's  dreary  sides  ? " ' 

In  short,  '  take  the  cash  and  let  the  credit  go. '  But  Tajidar 
tells  him  that  this  life,  which  he  finds  so  nectareous, 
is  daily  slipping  away  ;  and  to  every  other  objection  he 
has  a  suitable  answer,  the  result  being  that  the  birds 
choose  him  for  their  king,  and  resolve  to  follow  him  to 
the  mountain.  When,  however,  it  comes  to  starting,  the 
thought  of  the  terrors  of  the  track  makes  many  faint- 
hearted, and  they  slink  away  ;  while  others,  having  spent 
what  little  strength  they  had  in  preparation,  cannot 
muster  up  enough  courage  to  do  anything  further. 
Finally,  hov/ever,  a  goodly  host  start  on  this  avian 
'  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  but  more  than  half  turn  tail  at  the 
first  cold  snap.  Many  sit  as  if  stupefied,  and  some  fall 
behind.  The  more  brave  and  strong,  however,  push 
forward — 

'Yet  league  by  league  the  road  was  thicklier  spread 
By  the  fast  falling  foliage  of  the  dead.' 

Scorched,  frozen,  famished,  poisoned,  slain  by  beast  or 

reptile,  thirty  only  '  desperate  draggled  things,  half-dead, 

with  scarce  a  feather  on  their  wings,'  reach  the  mountain. 

'  Who  are  you?  '  asks  the  Guardian  Angel.     And  Tajidar 

replies — 

'  We  are 
Those  fractionr.  of  the  Sum  of  Being,  far 
Disspent  and  foul  disfigured,  that  once  more 
Strike  for  admission  at  the  Treasury  Door.' 


304  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

The  Angel  then  flings  open  the  portal — 

'  They  were  within — they  were  before  the  Throne^ 

in  a  wellnigh  insufferable  blaze  of  glory,  and  in  the 
centre  of  it  is  the  likeness  of  Themselves — as  it  were  trans- 
figured, looking  to  Themselves.  They  had  returned  to 
the  Being  of  whom  they  originally  formed  part.  Then  a 
voice  is  heard — 

'AH  you  have  been,  and  seen,  and  done,  and  thought, 
Not_y<7z^  but  /,  have  seen  and  been  and  wrought  : 
I  was  the  sin  that  from  Myself  rebelled, 
I  the  remorse  that  towards  Myself  compelled. 
I  was  the  Tajidar  who  led  the  track  : 
I  was  the  little  briar  that  pulled  you  back  : 
Sin  and  contrition — retribution  owed. 
And  cancelled — pilgrim,  pilgrimage,  and  road, 
Was  but  Myself  toward  Myself  ;  and  your 
Arrival  but  Myself  at  my  own  door.' 

Such  is  Sufism  according  to  Attar.  Whilst  holding 
that  Attar  had  less  imagination  than  Jami,  and  less  depth 
than  Jelaledin,  FitzGerald  considered  his  touch  lighter 
than  either.  Of  his  stories — which  pleased  FitzGerald 
better  than  Jami's — the  best  are  that  of  the  Shah  who 
rode  unmoved  through  his  huzzaing  capital,  but 
promptly  expressed  gratification  when  the  heads  of 
criminals  were  tossed  out  of  the  prison  to  him  ;  of 
Mahmud  and  the  lad  fishing,  which  ends  with  the 
couplet — 

'  This  is  the  luck  that  follows  every  cast 
Since  o'er  my  net  the  Sultan's  shadow  pass'd' ; 

and  that  of  Mahmud  and  the  Stoker ;  but  not  less 
memorable  are  those  of  the  man 

'Who  to  an  idol  bowed — as  best  he  knew — 
Under  that  false  god  worshipping  the  true' ; 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  305 

and  of  Mahmud  who,  hesitating  to  fulfil  a  vow,  referred 
the  matter  to  a  dervise — 

'Who,  having  listened,  said,  "The  thing  is  plain  : 
If  thou  and  God  should  never  have  again 
To  deal  together,  rob  Him  of  His  share, 
But  if  perchance  you  should — why  then,  beware  !"' 

In  one  of  the  stories  the  Prophet,  dipping  his  lips  into  a 
stream,  found  the  water  sweet,  but  the  same  stream  drunk 
from  an  earthen  pot  left  by  a  traveller  tasted  bitter.  To 
the  Prophet's  surprised  look 

'The  vessel's  earthen  lips  with  answer  ran, 
The  clay  that  I  am  made  of  once  was  man' — 

a  thought  that  drifted  into  FitzGerald's  Omar.  It  was 
a  passage  in  the  Mantik  which  suggested  the  lovely 
lines — 

'  Earth  could  not  answer,  nor  the  seas  that  mourn 
In  flowing  purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn' — 

founded  on  the  Eastern  belief  that  the  sea  and  all  its 
denizens  are  of  an  inferior  nature,  bereft  of  God.  It  was 
the  Mantik,  too,  that  suggested  to  FitzGerald  the  lines 
about  the  drum  beaten  at  the  Sultan's  door,  David's  song, 
the  False  Dawn,  and  the  Eternal  Saki.  FitzGerald's 
version  of  the  Mantik  was  finished  in  1859,  but  not 
published  till  after  his  death. 

In  the  meantime,  the  home  trouble  had  gone  on  from 
bad  to  worse.     That  FitzGerald   recognised  that  he  too 
was   blamable   is   evident  from    his    remark : 
'  How  often  I  think  with  sorrow  of  my  many    paddockat 
harshnesses  and  impatiences  !  which  are  yet   Goiding:ton 

,  •  •         ,      TT      ,  ,     Hall.  Baldock 

more  of  manner  than  intention.  He  longed  'Black Horse.' 
to   see   ag-ain    his   friends   the   Cowells.      To   The  Separa- 

°  .  tion. 

E.   B.  Cowell  he  writes,  *  My  wife  is  sick  of 

hearing  me  sing  in  a  doleful  voice  the  old  glee  of  *'  When 


3o6         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

shall  we  three  meet  again  ? " '  He  looked  back  with 
regret  and  soft  melancholy  to  the  vanished  delights  of 
the  cottage  at  Bramford  ;  recalled  the  walks  with  his 
friends,  the  monkey-tree,  the  old  mill,  the  willows  by  the 
river,  all  sacred  ;  and  often  sang  to  himself  a  verse — a 
verse  with  one  word  altered — from  Miss  Williams's  song 
*  Evan  Banks ' — 

'  Oh  banks  to  me  for  ever  dear, 
Oh  stream  whose  murmur  meets  my  ear, 
Oh,  all  my  hopes  of  bliss  abide 
Where  Orwell  mingles  with  the  tide.' 

Winter  passed,  and  FitzGerald  and  his  wife  were  still  in 
London.  Men  went  by  with  great  baskets  of  primroses, 
crocuses,  and  other  spring  flowers,  calling  as  they  passed — 

'  Growing,  growing,  growing, 
All  their  glory  going  ! ' 

— '  some  old  street  cry,'  as  FitzGerald  thought.  In  April 
he  spent  a  few  days  with  his  brother  John  at  Twicken- 
ham, where  he  copied  out  Omar  and  sent  it  to  Garcin 
de  Tassy  in  return  for  courtesy.  On  the  21st,  as  he  sat 
'  on  the  sunshine  of  the  little  balcony '  outside  the 
windows  of  his  house,  letters  from  Professor  and  Mrs. 
Cowell  were  placed  in  his  hands.  Says  he  in  replying 
to  Cowell,  '  My  wife  cried  a  good  deal  over  your  wife's 
letter,  I  think,  I  think  so.  Ah,  me !  I  would  not  as  yet 
read  it,  for  I  was  already  sad.'  Later,  FitzGerald  and 
his  wife  took  a  house  at  Gorleston,  near  Yarmouth,  but 
amity  between  them  still  seemed  quite  unattainable.  On 
the  1 8th  of  May  he  went  down  to  Bedford,  that  is  to  say 
Goldington,  to  try  and  forget  his  troubles  in  the  company 
of  his  devoted  friend  Captain  W.  Kenworthy  Browne, 
and  we  now  get  that  charming  picture  of  him  lying  in 
the  pightle  or  paddock  at  the  back  of  Goldington  Hall 


y. 
y. 
y. 


•J. 
u 
o 


p 
o 

55 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  309 

reading  Omar  Khayyam.  Says  he  :  '  When  in  Bedford- 
shire I  put  away  almost  all  books  except  Omar  Khayyam 
which  I  could  not  help  looking  over,  in  a  paddock  covered 
with  buttercups  and  brushed  by  a  delicious  breeze,  while 
a  dainty  racing  filly  of  W.  Browne's  came  startling  up  to 
wonder  and  snuff  about  me.'^  Stirred  by  the  delights  of 
springtide,  he  turned  into  monkish  Latin  the  Omar 
stanza — 

'  Now  the  New  Year  reviving  old  desires, 
The  thoughtful  soul  to  solitude  retires, 

Where  the  White  Hand  of  Moses  on  the  Bough 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  the  Ground  suspires.' 

So  he  lies  there  in  *  the  jolly  spring  weather,  in  the  jolly 
springtime,  when  the  poplar  and  lime  dishevel  their 
tresses  together,' 2  forgetting  for  the  moment  the  ache  at 
his  heart,  and  revelling  in  the  perfume  of  Omar.  On  Oak 
Apple  Day  (May  29)  he  made  a  journey,  probably  with 
Browne,  to  Baldock,  just  over  the  Herts  border,  in  order 
to  see  'The  Black  Horse,'  both  mill  and  hostelry,  famous 
on  account  of  the  old  song  written  by  a  nameless  curate 
about  Mary  Fitzjohn,  the  Beauty,  who  lived  there — 

'Who  has  e'er  been  at  Baldock,  must  needs  know  the  mill. 
With  the  sign  of  the  Horse,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.' 

It  was  especially  interesting  to  FitzGerald  (whom  you 
could  draw  all  round  the  country  with  an  old  song)  on 
account  of  the  description  of  a  visit  to  Baldock,  which 
included  a  sight  of  the  '  rustic  Diana '  and  a  taste  of  her 
sugared  lip,  made  by  one  Percival  Stockdale,^  Dr. 
Johnson's  '  Poor  Stockey,'  a  hundred  years  previous. 
FitzGerald  finds  the  mill  with  its  scanty  stream  a  little 
way  out  of  Baldock,  but  without  the  sign  of  the  Black 

*  Z^//tfr^  (Macmillan).  -  Euphratior. 

*  Who  in  1809  published  two  volumes  of  autobiography. 


3IO  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Horse  ;  makes  his  way  to  the  church,  on  the  steeple  of 
which  had  been  hoisted  a  large  oak  apple  bough,  and 
discovers  the  tomb  of  the  famous  Mary  of  the  song,  who, 
after  Stockdale's  visit,  had  married  one  Henry  Leonard. 
The  stone  is  inscribed  :  *  In  Memory  of  Mary,  the  wife 
of  Henry  Leonard,  who  died  April  26,  1769,  aged  43 
years'- — 'about  twelve  years,'  comments  FitzGerald, 
'  after  Stockdale  saw  and  saluted  her,  rightly  guessing 
that  she  was  then  "perhaps  above  thirty,  but  yet  lovely, 
fair,  and  blooming."  A  little  further  westward  lies  her 
husband,  Henry  Leonard,  "who  died  April  28,  1802, 
aged  78  years,"  buried  not  by  her  side,  but  by  that  of  a 
second  wife,  who  may  have  been  as  good,  but  whom  we 
will  not  believe  to  have  been  such  a  beauty,  as  his  first.' 
'  There  are  two  aquatint  engravings  of  Baldock  still 
extant  to  attest  that  she  was  its  most  celebrated  ornament. 
One  represents  the  town  and  the  fields  adjoining,  and 
"Mr.  Fitzjohn "  on  his  horse  looking  at  the  country 
people  making  hay  ;  the  other  print  is  of  the  mill  itself, 
with  its  Black  Horse  over  the  gable,  and  genteel  company 
in  hoop  and  ruffle  and  cocked  hat,  politely  conversing 
along  the  road  or  fishing  in  the  mill-stream.'  So  Fitz- 
Gerald did  his  little  bit  of  antiquarian  research,  and  on 
getting  back  to  Goldington  wrote  a  paper  on  it  which 
was  to  slumber  in  his  desk  twenty-two  years  before  finally 
getting  to  press. ^ 

On  5th  June  he  is  back  at  Gorleston  watching  the 
vessels  going  in  and  out  of  the  river,  and  sailors  walking 
about  with  fur  caps  and  their  hands  in  their  pockets. 
Everything  that  he  does  reveals  an  aching  heart.  A 
letter  of  his  to  Borrow,  from  whom  he  was  now  distant 
only   a   few   miles,    contains    some    sad    lines   from    the 

*  Temple  Bar,  January   1880 :    •  Percival   Stockdale    and    Baldock    Black 
Horse.' 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  311 

Persian,  in  which  regret  is  expressed  for  a  wasted  life, 
'unfulfilled  commands'  and  'unlawful  deeds.'  Night 
after  night  he  walked  about  on  the  hills — now  built  on 
— behind  Gorleston,  utterly  miserable.  He  was  in  a 
labyrinth  from  which  no  one  could  extricate  him  ;  never 
in  his  life  had  he  been  so  lonely.  His  heart  yearned  for 
some  one  to  administer  comfort.  He  longed  for  some 
one  to  whom  he  could  confide  his  troubles,  but  no  one 
came.  Years  after,  he  bitterly  reproached  Fate  for  pro- 
ducing no  friend  at  this  moment ;  and  yet,  what  could 
any  additional  friend  have  done  except  express  sympathy? 
There  was  but  one  way  to  escape  from  the  labyrinth, 
namely,  to  burst  in  a  straight  line,  heedless  of  the  thorns, 
through  the  thickset  intervening  hedges ;  and  this  he 
finally  decided  to  do.  He  resolved  upon  a  separation, 
and  Mrs.  FitzGerald  (though  not  without  spirited  remon- 
strance) concurred.  'FitzGerald,'  observed  Mr.  Alfred 
Smith  to  me,  'acted  as  he  thought  in  the  kindest  and 
most  honourable  manner,  and  the  separation  was  carried 
out  with  the  greatest  regard  to  the  happiness  of  both,  and 
with  much  liberality.'  Mrs.  FitzGerald  received  an  ample 
allowance  by  deed  placed  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  and 
the  ill-sorted  pair  parted  for  ever.  FitzGerald  had  broken 
through  his  labyrinth,  but  he  was  covered  with  wounds  ; 
the  thorns  had  entered  deeply  into  his  flesh.  How  great 
a  trouble  this  marriage  failure  was  to  him,  only  those 
who  were  in  his  company  at  the  time  (and  I  have  talked 
with  several)  could  really  understand.  For  long  he 
was  thoroughly  broken  down,  absolutely  and  hopelessly 
wretched  ;  but  after  a  time,  as  we  shall  see,  grief  gave 
place  to  indifference,  the  sad  to  the  mildly  satirical. 

Mrs.  FitzGerald  resided  first  at  Hastings,  and  after- 
wards at  Croydon.  Once  or  twice  she  attempted  to  see 
her  husband  again,  but  the  gates  of  his  heart  were  barri- 


312  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

caded  against  her.  Some — nay,  considerable — affection 
for  him  she  continued  to  preserve,  for  she  liked  to  have 
his  portrait  in  a  little  red  leather  case  always  near  her, 
and  right  until  his  death  clung  to  the  hope  that  they 
would  be  reunited.  So  ends  the  pitiful  story  of  Fitz- 
Gerald's  six  months  of  married  life.  For  his  conduct  in 
separating  from  his  wife  he  was  attacked,  by  persons  who 
understood  neither  him  nor  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
with  viperous  virulence  ;  but  though  their  remarks  neces- 
sarily pained  him  he  made  no  retort,  but  quietly  and  with 
dignity  went  his  own  way.  Surely  it  was  better  for  them 
to  separate  than  to  live  together  wretchedly — to  live,  for 
example,  a  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Short  sort  of  life.  Among 
those  who  strongly  disapproved  of  FitzGerald's  conduct 
at  this  crisis  was  one  of  his  nearest  friends  whose  affec- 
tion for  him,  formerly  so  marked,  from  that  time 
perceptibly  cooled.  Kind  letters,  indeed,  sometimes 
passed  between  them,  but  the  old  fervour  was  gone,  and 
they  never  afterwards  met. 

FitzGerald's  married  life — those  six  sable  months — 
passed  from  him   like  a  troubled   dream.     He   fell    back 

104  The  •  Far  ^"^^  ^^^  ^^"^  pensive  ways  and  solaced  him- 
niente'iife  self  again  with  his  books  at  Farlingay, 
again.  Lowestoft,  and  Bedford,  and  his  eight  good, 

simple,  well-bred,  industrious,  melancholy-flecked  nieces 
at  Geldestone,  and  compiled  for  his  own  amusement  a 
Glossary  of  Suffolk  Words  and  Phrases. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Bernard  Quaritch,  the  well-known  bookseller. 
Ouaritch,  who  had  often  seen  FitzGerald  in  his  shop, 
somehow  found  out  his  customer's  surname,  and  mala- 
droitly  asked  him  point-blank  whether  he  was  Edward 
Marlborough  FitzGerald  (the  man  with  the  tarnished 
reputation).     FitzGerald,  with  acerbity,  promptly  replied 


SIX  MONTHS  OF  WEDDED  LIFE  313 

that  he  was  not,  giving  his  correct  name ;  neverthe- 
less the  acquaintance  which  commenced  so  inauspici- 
ously  was  renewed,  and  in  time  ripened  into  a  sort  of 
friendship. 

In  the  meantime,  Edward's  brother  John  was  busy 
enlarging,  mutilating,  and  adorning  (as  he  called  it) 
Boulge  church  —  building  an  aisle  on  the  south  side, 
and  putting  in  a  new  east  window.  He  had  often  ful- 
minated against  the  '  remnants  of  Romanism '  in 
Woodbridge  church,  and  he  now  removed  what  he 
considered  objectionable  features  in  his  own — namely, 
the  wooden  angels  that  formed  part  of  the  roof  (the 
church  is  dedicated  to  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels), 
and  made  a  ceiling  which  he  covered  with  unmistakably 
Protestant  dark  blue  and  gold  stars.  John  FitzGerald's 
extreme  Evangelicalism,  indeed,  sometimes  led  him  into 
ridiculous  absurdities.  To  denude  his  church  (bare 
enough  before)  of  the  few  ornaments  left  it  by  the 
Reformation,  to  tear  down  its  architectural  angels  and 
to  hide  its  fine  roof  with  a  ceiling  daubed  with  blue, 
was  foolish  enough  ;  but  still  more  foolish  was  an  argu- 
ment which  he  had  with  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
relative  to  the  Apocrypha,  the  whole  of  which  he  hated 
with  all  the  hatred  of  his  narrow-minded  nature. 
Surely,  in  the  light  of  the  jewels  scattered  up  and  down 
its  pages,  and  especially  in  Ecclesiasticus,  the  attitude 
of  the  Church  towards  these  books  as  expressed  in  the 
sixth  article  of  the  Church  should  satisfy  any  reasonable 
man.  But  John  was  not  satisfied,  and  the  following 
dialogue  took  place  : — 

J.  F.  If  I  were  a  clergyman  and  had  daily  service,  could 
I  omit  the  reading  of  these  books? 

Archbishop.  No,  sir. 

J.   F.    Could   I   from  the  pulpit  explain   to  the  people 


314  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

the  falsehoods  and  unsound  doctrine  contained  in  these 
writings? 

Archbishop.  No,  sir.^ 

J.  F.  Then  I  cannot  read  in  the  desk  what  I  cannot 
endorse  from  the  pulpit. 

If  John  was  in  an  anti-Apocryphal  and  polemical 
mood,  it  was  of  no  avail  even  to  agree  with  him  before 
he  began.  He  would  assume  that  you  were  an  an- 
tagonist for  the  sake  of  argument,  and  pour  upon  your 
dissimulation  all  the  vials  of  his  wrath  —  with  much 
sissing,  many  an  amazing  action,  and  an  occasional 
whistle.  His  virtues,  however,  more  than  palliated  his 
weaknesses.  Indeed,  as  his  brother  said,  he  was  a  man 
one  could  really  love  two  and  three-quarter  miles  off. 

^  A  better  answer  would  have  been,  '  It  would  be  a  waste  of  time,  sir, 
in  the  light  of  the  sixth  article. ' 


CHAPTER    XIII 

GOLDINGTON 

MAY    1857 — 30TH   MARCH    1 859. 

Bibliography 

18.  Getttlemati's  Magazine,  Death  of  George  Crabbe. 

19.  Omar  Khayyam,  ist  edition,  15th  February  1859. 

In  September  1857,  just  after  he  had  arrived  at  Golding- 
ton,  FitzGerald  heard  of  the  death  of  his  old  friend,  the 
Rev.  Georg-e  Crabbe,  vicar  of  Bredfield  ;  and         ,,    .^   , 

°  '  '  105.  Death  of 

in  his  letter  to  Crabbe's  son,  George  Crabbe  George  Crabbe 
the  third,  he  says:  'I  feel  your  father's  loss  t^^^ Second, 
more  than  any  I  have  felt,  except  Major  Moor's,  perhaps.' 
Then  follows  a  pathetic  reference  to  Mrs.  FitzGerald  :  '  I 
want  your  sisters  so  much  to  go  to  my  wife  at  Gorleston 
when  they  can,'  Mrs.  FitzGerald  being  anxious  to  return  to 
them  in  that  way  some  of  the  sympathy  they  had  shown 
to  her  during  her  trouble  early  in  the  year.  '  I  am  con- 
vinced,' continues  FitzGerald  feelingly,  *  that  their  going 
to  her  would  be  the  very  thing  for  herself,  poor  soul  ; 
taking  her  out  of  herself,  and  giving  her  the  very  thing 
she  is  pining  for,  namely,  some  one  to  devote  herself  to.'  ^ 
FitzGerald  reached  Bredfield  in  time  to  be  present  at  the 
funeral.  Melancholy  enough  the  house  seemed  with  its 
smell  of  crape  and  bombazine,  while  the  friend  with  whom 
he  had  spent  so  many  happy  hours  lay  there  still  and 

'  More  Letters  (Macmillan). 
VOL.  I.  P 


3i6         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

silent,  the  '  Radiator '  never  more  to  emit  rays  ;  with  the 
people  coming  in  and  going  out  with  black  about 
them,  '  were  it  no  bigger  than  that  about  the  soldier's 
arm,'  and  vying  with  each  other  to  do  honour  to  the 
man  who  had  loved  them  all,  and  had  believed  good  of 
them  all,  'except  Mary  Ann  Cuthbert.'  Next  to  the 
family  and  FitzGerald,  nobody,  however,  felt  the  blow  more 
sensibly  than  the  Rev.  H.  S.  Drew.^  The  last  argument 
on  Infant  Baptism  had  been  held,  and  victory,  as  at  the 
first,  had  been  claimed  by  both  parties.  It  was  very 
mournful  to  pass  the  battlefields,  and  visions  of  poor 
Crabbe's  animated  face  and  revolving  hat  seemed  very 
real.  In  the  'cobblery,'  the  stuffy,  smoke-impregnated, 
little  dark  study  where  FitzGerald  and  Crabbe  had  so 
often  sat  with  their  pipes,  talked  and  drunk  'something 
warm,'  a  partially  consumed  cheroot  w^hich  Crabbe,  as  it 
seemed,  might  any  moment  come  and  finish,  lay  in  its 
china  ash-pan.  The  burial  took  place  in  a  simple  manner 
on  the  south  side  of  the  churchyard,  and  the  descending 
September  sun  of  one  of  the  finest  summers  remembered, 
broke  out  to  fling  a  farewell  beam  on  the  closing  grave." 
The  respect  in  which  Crabbe  was  held  by  his  parishioners 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  they  '  all '  (including  Mary  Ann 
Cuthbert,  apparently)  subscribed  for  the  purpose  of  placing 
to  his  memory  a  tablet  in  the  church  ;  and  by  the  warmth 
of  affection  towards  him  displayed  in  some  anonymous 
verses^  (grovelling  though  the  language,  with  its  reference 
to  the  '  higher  classes ')  written  by  one  of  his  humbler 
admirers.  After  the  death  of  her  father,  Miss  Caroline 
Crabbe  resided  at  Stockton,  in  Wiltshire,  or  stayed  with 

'  The  Rev.  Heriot  Standbanks  Drew  died  at  Pettistree,  near  Woodbridge, 
31st  December  1893,  aged  eighty-five  years. 

'  See  notice  of  Crabbe  in  the  Gentleman'' s  Magazine  for  November  1S57, 
furnished  by  FitzGerald. 

*  Nine  in  number. 


./-v« 


■    nS  :,Ji 


> 

y. 

•/. 
y. 


■■^:.--  t,4 


y. 


■J 


■J 


GOLDINGTON  319 

friends  at  Bradford-on-Avon,  where  FitzGerald  sometimes 

visited  her.    A  letter  lies  before  me  written  by  her  to  Emma 

Cone  of  Boulge — who  afterwards  became  wife  of  William 

Marjoram,  of  whom  we  shall  speak  later — on  i  ith  February 

1858.      It   is   in    reference  to   the   death   of  Mr.    Robert 

Knipe  Cobbold,  of  the  'White  House,'  Bredfield.^     Not 

only  does  it  throw  light  on  the  character  of  one  of  the 

most  interesting  persons  of  the  FitzGerald  drama,  but  it 

shows  how  near  the  welfare  of  the  people  of  Bredfield 

was  to  the  hearts  of  all  the  Crabbe  family.     She  says  : 

*  I  am  very  sorry  he  is  taken  away,  both  for  the  Bredfield 

people  and  for  himself.     When  people  have  had  a  long 

and  painful  illness,  or  are  very  old,  they  are  glad  to  leave 

the  world,  but  he  seemed  to  be  in  health  and  to  enjoy 

life.     Besides,  his  life  was  such  a  useful  one.  ...   I  do 

believe    he    thought    of    others   before   himself.      What 

pleasure  it  gave  him  to  see  the  children  enjoy  their  treats, 

and  we  were  so  glad  to  think  some  one  was  left  in  the 

place  who  took  an  interest   in   his  neighbours  and  was 

able  to  help  them.     But  we  do  not  know  what  is  really 

best.     He  was  a  God-fearing  man,  and  I  trust,  with  you, 

he   is   gone   to   a   kind    and    merciful    Father   and   to   a 

Heavenly  home.'  ^ 

As  we  have  seen,    Mr.    Robert  Elliott  of  Goldington 

left  two  children,  Robert,  and  Elizabeth,  who  was  married 

to  Mr.  W.  Kenworthy  Browne.     Robert,  who 

had     two     children,     Harriet    and     Florence   ton  Bury,  23rd 

Hannah   Maria  (now   Lady   Power),   died    in    September 

^  ^  '^  1858. 

1853,  his  wife  in  1854  ;  and  the  children,  who 

became   wards    in   Chancery,    were   handed    over   to    W. 

Kenworthy   Browne,   who  educated    them   with   his  own 

family  under  a  governess,  the   Miss  Thompson   of  Fitz- 

'  Son  of  the  author  of  Margaret  Catchpok. 

-  Unpublished  letter  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  William  Marjoram. 


320         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Gerald's  letters.  On  23rd  September  1858  Browne  re- 
moved from  Goldington  Hall  to  Goldington  Bury,  a 
larger  house  in  the  Queen  Anne  style,  situated  a  little 
to  the  north-east  and  nearer  the  church. 

The  Bedford  Conservatives  now  wanted  Browne  to 
stand  for  the  borough  as  the  second  Conservative  candi- 
date, and  he  agreed  to  the  proposal,  though,  as  the 
Whigs,  led  by  Mr.  George  Hurst,  presented  a  formidable 
front,  the  fight  was  expected  to  be  a  stout  one.  In  the 
meantime,  he  devoted  himself  with  unflagging  zeal  to 
his  magisterial  and  other  duties.  For  one  thing,  he  was 
warmly  interested  in  promoting  an  alteration  of  the  law 
relating  to  the  imprisonment  of  debtors  under  orders  from 
the  county  court,  a  law  which  had  been  '  cruelly  turned 
to  the  oppression  of  the  poor.' 

In  January,  FitzGerald  is  at  his  old  lodgings,  88  (to 
which  the  number  had  been  changed  from  31)  Great 
Portland  Street.  He  had  given  up  his  studies,  for  there 
was  no  one  (Cowell  being  in  India)  to  prick  the  sides  of  his 
intent,  'vaulting  ambition  having  long  failed  to  do  so.' 

In  the  Middle  Ages  superstition  regarded  any  un- 
usual  celestial   appearance    not    only   with   awe,    but  as 

an  omen  of  ill,  and  nothing  visited  it  with 
107.  Death  of  ,  ,      .  ^,, 

w.  Kenworthy  greater  concern  than  a  glorious  comet.  We 
Browne,  30th     are   all   tinctured   with    the   credulity   of  our 

March  1859. 

forefathers,  and  FitzGerald,  gazing  up  at  the 
comet  of  1858,^  a  transplendent  object  in  the  shape  of  a 
noble  falcon  swooping  downward  with  arched  neck  and 
lowered  head,  or  a  magnificent  rocket  just  burst  and 
on  the  point  of  falling,  may  pardonably  have  wondered 
whether  the  sight  portended  anything  to  him — a  thought 
to  be  no  sooner  conceived  than  dismissed  as  unworthy 
of  even  the  momentary  credence  of  an  intelligent  being. 

^  Donati's. 


':r'H> 


"if 


W.    KKWVOK mv  I'.KOWNK 

yl>l  liiljiiiished  oil  fnitilhi/,'  hy  SamutI  l.aivretue. 


I'l.ATl-;  XXXVI. 


GOLDINGTON  323 

Yet  scarce  had  the  radiance  of  the  celestial  visitor 
vanished  before  there  fell  upon  him  the  most  crushing 
blow  of  his  life,  namely,  the  loss  of  his  devoted  friend, 
mentor,  and  hero,  W.  Kenworthy  Browne.  It  was  the 
28th  of  January  1859,  and  the  Elstow  Harriers  were 
returning  after  a  day's  sport  at  an  easy  pace  along  the 
road  leading  from  Great  Barford  to  Bedford.  Browne, 
aglow  after  the  exercise  —  the  picture  of  health  —  was 
chatting  with  a  friend  as  they  rode  side  by  side.  Dusk 
was  falling,  the  air  nipped,  and  Ouse,  seen  through 
the  naked  limbs  of  the  trees  and  its  fringe  of  bleached 
reeds,  crept  as  leisurely  towards  the  sea  as  the  horsemen 
in  green  paced  towards  Bedford.  The  dogs  were  mostly 
some  distance  ahead,  but  some  of  them  having  fallen 
behind,  a  horseman  in  front  of  Browne,  turning  in  his 
saddle,  struck  at  one  of  the  laggers  with  his  hunting- 
whip.  By  accident,  the  lash  flicked  the  head  of  Browne's 
horse,  which,  without  even  a  moment's  warning,  reared 
on  its  haunches  and  fell  backwards  on  its  rider,  crushing 
him  beyond  the  hope  of  recovery.  At  first,  indeed,  he 
was  thought  to  be  dead.  They  carried  him  home  to  Gold- 
ington  Bury,  and  managed  to  get  him  to  his  bedroom, 
that  on  the  first-floor  with  three  windows,  on  the  right 
as  you  face  the  house.  Here,  'broken  in  half,  almost,' 
he  lingered  in  dreadful  agony  for  nearly  nine  weeks, 
though  death  was  daily  expected.  The  sorrow  in  the 
home  we  pass  over.  FitzGcrald,  torn  with  grief, 
hastened  to  Goldington,  but  for  long  could  not  be  per- 
mitted to  enter  the  chamber  of  suffering.  'Then,' says 
FitzGerald,  'Browne  tried  to  write  a  line  to  me,  like  a 
child's !  and  I  went  and  saw  no  longer  the  gay  lad, 
nor  the  healthy  man  I  had  known,  but  a  wreck  of  all 
that;  a  face  like  Charles  i.  (after  decapitation,  almost) 
above  the  clothes,   and   the   poor  shattered  body   under- 


324         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

neath,  lying  as  it  had  lain  eight  weeks.'  Tears  that 
he  could  not  wipe  away  came  to  his  eyes.  '  Instead 
of  the  light  utterance  of  other  days  came  the  slow,  pain- 
ful syllables  in  a  far  lower  key  ;  and  when  the  old 
familiar  words,  Old  fellow,  Fitz,  etc.,  came  forth,  so 
spoken,  I  broke  down  too  in  spite  of  foregone  resolu- 
tion.'^ The  sufferer,  looking  at  FitzGerald  'with  his 
old  discrimination,'  said  one  day,  '  I  suppose  you  have 
scarce  ever  been  with  a  dying  person  before?' 

It  was  now  Sunday  morning,  March  27th.  Seated 
in  the  parlour  at  Goldington  Bury,  FitzGerald  noticed 
two  books  which  had  been  presents  from  himself.  One 
was  the  copy,  in  grey-coloured  boards,  of  Godefridus. 
He  opened  it.  There  was  the  familiar  picture  of  the 
two  naked  horsemen,  the  first  of  whom  was  turning 
round  and  flourishing  a  whip.  FitzGerald  must  have 
shuddered,  for  had  the  figures  been  clad  in  hunting- 
clothes,  the  picture  might  have  been  taken  for  a  delinea- 
tion of  Browne's  accident.  He  read  the  inscription  : 
'  W.  Browne  from  E.  F.  G.  Sed  tu  noli  deficere :  qiiod 
ille  qiiaerit,  tu  esto.'  Then  taking  a  pen,  he  wrote  under 
it,  whilst  his  poor  friend  lay  dying  in  the  room  above, 
'This  book  I  gave  my  dear  W.  K.  B.  about  twenty 
years  ago  ;  when  then  believing  it,  and  believing  it  now^ 
to  contain  a  character  of  himself  (especially  at  pp.  89, 
etc.),  though  he  might  be  the  last  to  negotiate  it  as  his 
own  likeness.  I  now  think  his  son  [Gerald]  cannot  do 
better  than  read  it,  with  the  light  his  father's  example 
sheds  upon  it. — Edward  FitzGerald,  Goldington  Bury, 
Sunday  morning,  March  27,  1859.' ^  The  other  book 
was   a  copy  of  his  own   Eiipliranor,   presented   by   him 

^  Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  3.     Quoted  by  permission  of  Messrs.  Macmillan. 
^  This  book  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Captain  Gerald  Kenworthy  Browne, 
to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  the  use  of  it. 


GOLDINGTOX  CHURCH 

Proiii  a  f'holoKrafli  hy  y.  yl .  KdH,  Esq.,  Bedford. 


I'l.ATK  XXXVII. 


GOLDINGTON  327 

to  Browne,  and  in  it  he  wrote  :  '  This  little  book  would 
never  have  been  written,  had  I  not  known  my  dear 
friend  William  Browne,  who,  unconsciously,  supplied 
the  moral. — E.  F.  G.,  Goldington,  March  27,  1859.'^ 

On  the  night  of  29th  March,  Browne  spoke  of  Fitz- 
Gerald,  and  the  next  day  'gave  up  his  honest  ghost.' 
FitzGerald's  comment  on  an  event  that  had  so  deeply 
affected  him  is  characteristic.  '  Well,  this  is  so  ;  and 
there  is  no  more  to  be  said  about  it.  It  is  one  of  the 
things  that  reconcile  me  to  my  own  stupid  decline  of 
life,  to  the  crazy  state  of  the  world.  Well,  no  more 
about  it.  .  .  .  Poor  old  Omar  has  his  kind  of  consola- 
tion for  all  these  things.' ^  Captain  Browne  was  buried 
in  Goldington  churchyard,  the  service  being  read  by 
the  Rev.  William  Airy — 'All  very  quiet  and  solemn.' 
A  stone  with  his  initials  marks  his  resting-place,  and 
there  is  a  tablet  of  white  marble  to  his  memory  in  the 
church.  Thus  closed  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and 
picturesque  friendships  in  the  history  of  literature. 

To  his  dying  day  FitzGerald  treasured  in  his  heart 
of  hearts  the  recollection  of  his  splendid  friend,  and  the 
epithet  we  have  used  indicates  perhaps  better  than  any 
other  the  feeling  with  which  he  regarded  him.  71ie 
happy  days  they  had  spent  together  at  Tenby,  Bedford, 
Goldington,  Lowestoft,  in  Ireland,  and  in  Germany,  often 
recurred  to  his  mind.  Browne — Phidippus — my  master 
— was  his  ideal  man,  his  ideal  friend  ;  and  he  felt  the 
blow  in  proportion  to  his  affection  and  admiration  for 
him.  Never  again  did  FitzGerald  have  the  heart  to 
visit  Bedford.  No  more  Ouse  with  doddered  willows 
and  sky-parting  poplars  ;    no  more  fishing,   with  Sartor 

*  Sec  chapter  ix.,  section  76.     This  hook  now  hclongs  to  the  Rev.  K.  Ken- 
worthy  Browne,  who  furnishcl  mc  with  most  f>f  the  information  in  chapter  xiii. 
^  Letters. 


328         LIFE  OF  EDWARD  FITZGERALD 

Resartus  or  Selden  instead  of  bait,  and  a  paint-brush 
instead  of  rod.  Bletsoe,  Turvey,  Keysoe,  Elstow,  Gold- 
ington — adieu  !  The  music  of  their  names  had  all  de- 
parted. They  were  nothing  without  Browne.  '  Samarcand 
shall  see  my  face  no  more  ! '  Writing  to  Mrs.  W.  K. 
Browne,  25th  April  1859,^  FitzGerald  says  that  he  takes 
it  for  granted  that  she  would  not  wish  him  to  visit 
Goldington  for  some  time,  and  he  begs  her  not  to 
ask  him  for  compliment's  sake.  He  would  go,  how- 
ever, if  she  really  desired  it.  As  mementoes,  Mrs. 
Browne  sent  him  her  husband's  snuff-box,  bought  seven 
years  previous  by  FitzGerald  in  Langham  Place,  '  the 
little  stick  that  used  to  come  on  visits  to  London,'  and 
the  picture  of  the  Spanish  pointer  by  Stubbs.  In 
memory  of  Browne,  he  had  the  picture  put  in  a  very 
broad  black  frame.  The  death  of  Browne  not  only 
spoilt  Bedford  for  FitzGerald,  it  spoilt  London  too  ;  he 
lost  all  curiosity  about  what  London  had  to  show. 
Browne  was  too  much  connected  with  his  old  taverns 
and  streets  not  to  fling  a  gloom  over  all. 

'  Unpublished  letter. 


END   OF   VOL.    I. 


THE    LIFE    OF 

EDWARD 

FITZGERALD 


T  II  O  M  .V  S 
\\^  R  I  G  H  r 


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